


10 Things I Hate About Killian Jones

by itsalostgirlthing



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 10 Things I Hate About You (1999) Fusion, Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 18:57:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 72,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7586101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsalostgirlthing/pseuds/itsalostgirlthing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>10 Things I Hate About You AU: Everyone wants Ruby and the new transfer student, Victor, is no exception. The problem is that she's not allowed to date until her older sister, Emma Swan, dates, too. In an elaborate scheme to get the girl, Mary Margaret and Victor enlist the help of the only guy in school up for the challenge: Killian Jones. (Snowing, Frankenwolf, and a little OQ and Rumbelle at the end)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meet the Players

**Author's Note:**

> (Though not necessary for understanding the fic because I hope to do it justice; cross our fingers,) I recommend you watch the movie. It also has Heath Ledger in it (Rest in peace, you beautiful, charming man). Oh, just a heads up, I will use most, if not all of, the events from the movie, but I'm adding scenes in, too. Alright then! 10 Things I Hate About You, Captain Swan edition! Let's do this :D

There are some people you just have to call by their full name. In her four years at Storybrooke High, Emma Swan had managed to become one of those people.

Only the last of the seniors could remember a time when Emma Gold waltzed down the halls, all smiles and easy laughter. That's who she was back then—Emma Gold; back when she didn't don her late mother's maiden name; back when she didn't feel like exploding from all the stupidity around her.

That freshman girl was just as daring as the guys yet as friendly as everyone would expect the future homecoming princess to be. Though she was still just as bold and clever, Emma was far from sweet now. That's where her Sophomore sister Ruby came in.

Ruby was cute and flirty, and like any spoiled child, she grew used to getting her way. Now that she was surrounded by helpless lovesick boys who offered her everything and anything she could possibly want, well, who was she to refuse them?

Taking one look into her sister's bedroom, Ruby rolled her eyes and ran down the stairs.

"Bye, daddy!" she shouted and headed out to the silver convertible parked out front. That was Ruby, the light of everyone's lives.

Ruby was adored.

Emma was approached with caution.

Ruby was the girl you wanted so badly to sit with you during lunch.

Emma was the girl you hoped wouldn't pay you any attention.

Ruby played dumb.

Emma called you on your bullshit.

Ruby was cute.

Emma was fierce.

Ruby was riding with the most popular guy in Senior year.

And... Whoops. Emma was running late for school.

Emma's alarm clock blared, telling her for the fifth time to rise and shine. The happy music urged her to greet the bright sunny day with a smile—to connect with her peers and be a doting older sister to Ruby.

None of these things were going to happen.

She hit snooze again and again and again until she heard her father yelling from the bottom of the staircase.

"Time to wake up, dearie! Day's anew!"

She buried her face harder into her pillow and groaned. Was it already time to go back into that cesspool of dumbasses? There was a knock on her door; a redundant knock since he swung it open anyway without waiting for a reply.

"You're going to be late," he said tiredly from her doorway.

"Just homeschool me, Gold, until I can escape to college." She wasn't like Ruby, she wouldn't call this man 'dad.' If he wouldn't let her leave to the out-of-state college of her dreams, then he sure as hell wouldn't be called her father.

He was a prison keeper; keeping her here in this city, this school, and this household. Not her father.

"I'll consider it if you start respecting me as your father."

"Yeah." She sat upright and tossed her blonde curls back. "That'll happen when you stop trying to control my life."

"Always a pleasure talking to you in the morning. Now hurry along. It's a beautiful day—full of chances to cut down young minds and youthful spirits." Ruby had ranted to him about Emma enough to know she wasn't exactly the school sweetheart.

"You're right!" she gleamed then bounced out of bed, imitating Ruby's perkiness, and slammed her door shut.

Killian Jones transferred in sometime during Sophomore year. A "clean slate," his uncle persuaded, but it didn't take long for his reputation and rumors to follow, making their way across town to Storybrooke High. Feared by most and sought after by his hopeless fan club at school, he was like Emma—one of those people you called by their full name.

There was quite a buzz of rumors circulating around campus, but Killian acknowledged that there was some truth strung up in there. Yes, he did get into a few bad scuffles and, yeah, there was a heart or two that he broke, but some of it was just ridiculous.

He messed up a kid pretty bad once, but he never put anyone in a coma. He also wasn't the leader of a state-wide drug ring. He didn't show up late to school, or not at all, because he was out boosting cars all night long. He never got stabbed nor did he go to have a drink with his mates before finally stitching the laceration up himself. He never took down a cougar with his bare hands and teeth during an Outdoor Ed trip. He also never dated one either. He wasn't a fugitive seeking asylum in America. He didn't have a stripper girlfriend—though he wouldn't have minded that bit.

Killian balanced the half-burnt cigarette between his lips while his hand danced along the neck of his guitar. It was now around the end of first period, but it's not like his guardian for all intents and purposes would care about a call home from the office; his uncle would probably just laugh into the receiver and hang up.

No, his uncle was just happy that Killian hadn't dropped out yet, but there really was no reason for him to; he was smart—clever as hell and too charming for his own good. His grades weren't too bad and he'd definitely be graduating in the spring despite his attendance problem. He owed Principal Mills big time for overlooking that. Then again, she just wanted him out of there.

Killian could own the world with all his natural talents, but he lacked ambition. Wait, no, that wasn't right; he had ambition, but he just didn't seem to know in what direction to channel all that passion into.

Still, he had calmed down significantly over the last two years, but the reputation still stuck and, well, he didn't care enough to prove them wrong.

"Skipping school again?" his uncle's aggravated voice boomed out onto the deck.

"Not missing anything, I can assure you."

"I don't have time for this shit. I, unlike one of us, have to work, so stop screwing around and get your ass to school."

Two years ago, Killian would've flipped over a table, thrown a chair off the deck, or even brawled with the man, but something happened. He lost it one day—he lost that anger that used to drive him and keep him engaged in the world. Now he just felt like an empty shell. No purpose. No prospects. Bored with everything around him.

The only thing he seemed to feel nowadays was this sickening guilt sloshing around inside him for wasting away the life that his mother had given hers up for. In pictures, she was always caught mid-laugh with smiling eyes, the same shade of blue as his. She looked even happier in the photos during her pregnancy with Killian, but that was all he knew of her. Those and the stories his uncle had shared about his long dead sister.

He had to give his uncle some credit though. When that good for nothing bastard of a father sent a twelve year old Killian overseas to his brother-in-law's, the man had taken him in, even if just to honor his late sister.

He abandoned his guitar and dropped his cigarette into the overflowing ashtray. With his moment of reverie ruined, he couldn't think of anything better than to go sit through some classes.

He'd go to school, maybe get into some light trouble for the hell of it, and hope that something would spark his interest.

High school.

With a thud, Emma let her forehead fall against the steering wheel. She hated this place. She hated these people. Well, except for one person and that person was tapping on the glass of her car with two donuts and a smile that even she couldn't help but return.

David seemed to be her only ally. As her best friend and confidante, he was the only person who knew the secret passage way through the walls she'd fortified after deciding to become a Swan. He was just one of those genuinely good guys that didn't seem to belong in her world full of liars, cheats, and scumbags which is why she was all the more grateful. The fact that he also was a pastry connoisseur didn't hurt, too.

Making no attempt to leave the sanctuary of her car, Emma rolled down her window to let the greeting in.

"Good morning!" The two of them were a team, but there was no mistaking that David had all the spirit.

"Tell me it's three o'clock already," Emma whined, still miserably slumped forward in her seat.

"Chin up," he teased. "You can do it; I have faith in you."

"Stop believing in me all the time! It sets the bar too high…"

"Yet you always reach it."

"Really?" she snorted. "Alright, let's get this over with." She took David's advice—with her chin up, best poker face in effect, and a walk that said 'don't you dare get in my way,' she managed to get through half of the day without any problem.

Until lunch came around.

"Well, well, well. Emma, come here for a sec," Jefferson crowed at her.

"Go away," she replied with bubbling irritation, but he grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him.

"Aw, is that any way to treat an old friend?" he winked.

"You're not my friend and you know it." If looks could kill… She could only hope that one day it would take.

"We actually have important matters to discuss, my friend." He slung his arm over her shoulder and steered her into the courtyard. "Your dear sister Ruby," Emma scowled at the way he said her name, "has informed me that she can't go to Graham's party—because you won't go."

"Exactly." She shoved him off and moved passed him, but he grabbed her arm and yanked her back again. Emma grunted and tried to free herself, but his fingers dug painfully into her bicep. Everyone in the courtyard turned their attention to the struggling pissed off blonde in the blue leather jacket.

"Can you act like a human being for once and go so your sister can go?"

"Human being? That's rich coming from you. I'm going to give you a fair warning right now. Take your hand off me, Jefferson, or I will make you regret waking up today."

"Oooh, so scared," he sniggered around to the crowd starting to form.

"Don't say I didn't warn you." When he turned to face her again, she seized his other arm, kneed him in the groin, and as he stumbled back, she backhanded him so hard that the sound nearly echoed throughout the quad. He dropped and, satisfied with his whimpers of pain, Emma smiled down at him. "See you later, friend!"

Victorious, she strode off, curls bouncing with each step, and with each step, the crowd parted for her. A mix of laughter and horrified gasps erupted in the courtyard as she charged through it; heading straight to the very place she knew she'd be called in sooner or later.

Principal Mill's office.

"Belle," Regina called out to her secretary.

"Yes, Regina?"

"What's another word for 'trembling?'" Belle gave her a curious look then answered with a helpful smile.

"There are quite a few options, but the most fitting would depend on what you're talking about."

"'Lucinda stared in anticipation at Reginald's trembling member—'"

"Don't worry, Ms. Belle. I've got this one." Emma relieved the blushing secretary of their principal's novel and waltzed into the office while Regina glanced at her with weary eyes. This was becoming a routine for these two.

"I was wondering if I was going to have to send one of the nitwits to fetch you. I just received word that you had a bit of an altercation in the courtyard."

"If, by altercation, you mean educating another asshole on campus about the consequences of violating a girl's personal space. Then, yes. I'd say that's about right."

"Educating, really? You kicked another student in the balls."

"If you were there, then you'd understand that he might as well have kicked himself in the balls." In their stare down, Emma waited for Regina's unethical advice, as always.

"You know, Miss Swan," her arguably deranged principal began, "You might want to start considering how people perceive you," and with a condescending smile, Regina finished, "It's not very becoming for a young lady."

"'A young lady.' And how do people perceive me as? Strong-willed. Tough. No nonsense—"

"Those aren't the ones I usually hear from the other students and teachers."

"And, what words would those be?" Emma challenged as Regina slumped back into her chair, already exasperated from their conversation.

"Oh, I don't know. Bad-tempered? Aggressive. Hostile. Shrew—"

"'Shrew?' What are we in, the twelfth century? I bet that was Mrs. Lucas, right? She's been on a Shakespeare kick lately."

"Is 'heinous bitch' modern enough for you?" Regina snapped.

"So, am I suspended or what?" she asked, knowing full well that she wasn't. It's not like this was her first time in the principal's office—or 'educating' a student.

"Of course I'm not suspending you," Regina scoffed as if it were a ridiculous notion. "Too much paperwork! Besides, I have my novel to finish, so go on. Be free. Try not to assault anyone else this week." She waved her hand dismissively at Emma and continued typing away.

"Thanks for really setting me straight."

"Yeah, yeah. Leave the door open. I've got more delinquents to pretend I care about."

Emma couldn't help but smirk at Regina's total disregard for proper conduct. She was a queen and this school was her queendom. No one could tell her what to do or how to do it.

"Swan, wait! What was that other word for 'trembling?"

"If you're talking about Reginald's member again, I'd go with 'quivering' instead."

"Hmm… I like that," she replaced it. "Much better. Okay, go away now."

Emma left, letting her principal resume writing her smutty novel during school hours and just five minutes later, Belle interrupted Regina's burst of inspiration.

"Regina, there are a few students waiting—"

"Damn it! Send them in, let's get this over with."

Victor was an army-brat. He'd transferred schools more times than he could keep track of, but his father promised that this was the last time which would be very considerate if this wasn't already his senior year. Victor was a cute enough boy and didn't dress too shabby either, but he'd only had one official girlfriend; they broke up when he had to move again. Still, he was a romantic and never lost hope. There was someone he was meant for and he had a good feeling about this school.

Except for the way Regina kept rolling her eyes at his transcript.

"So, Victor. Squeaky clean record. Good grades. I give it until the end of semester for that all to go down the hole," she said bluntly with her signature forced smile.

"Excuse me?"

"You're telling me that you haven't noticed the student body here? Little empty-minded teenagers running around screaming anarchy and now it looks like they have fresh meat. Welcome to Storybrooke High, Mr. Whale."

"Are you allowed to—is this where I'm supposed to be?" His principal had just berated her own students; he resisted the urge to scan around for a hidden camera.

"Not anymore. Here's your schedule and don't worry, one of the assigned do-gooders around here will show you around." Victor sat there wide-eyed, waiting for himself to wake up—for her to say this was all a joke—until Regina gave him an impatient look. "What? Oh yes—" and with a voice full of sarcasm she continued, "Have a fantastic first day, Mr. Whale—I don't want any trouble from you. I have enough on my plate with these little miscreants. Now go! Be free. Go frolic in a meadow. Yup. Out that door. Keep walking. Goodbye."

In his retreat, almost bumped into the guy behind him. The stranger raised an eyebrow and gave Victor a hard stare which, surprisingly, Victor smiled and nodded unaffectedly.

"Ah, Mr. Jones," she glanced up momentarily. "Why do I have this sneaking suspicion that you're purposely getting into trouble to test my patience?"

"What can I say? I just can't stay away from you. Makes my day." He sent her a wink which went unseen; she was still trying to wrap up the scene of Reginald caressing Adrienne's creamy white thighs.

"So," she kept her eyes focused on the screen of her laptop, "I heard you exposed yourself in the cafeteria today."

"It was just a joke; a bratwurst."

"My, my," Regina finally met his eyes then glanced down at his crotch, and with a low voice, she mocked, "Aren't we the optimist."

If there was one person who could outdo him in inappropriateness, it was Principal Regina Mills. He had to hand it to her, she was pretty entertaining, but there was really no fun in bantering with someone he couldn't get a rise out of.

"Don't let it happen again, Jones. Dismissed." Killian grabbed his bag and headed out to the back building for a smoke.

Regina returned back to her screen and substituted Reginald's 'member' for 'bratwurst.'

'They may be little shit-for-brains, but they're inspiring little idiots sometimes,' she thought.

"Victor?" The gleeful voice belonged to a small girl with a pink cardigan and black pixie cut. "I'm so glad to meet you! Welcome to Storybrooke High! I'm Mary Margaret." She was a little too cheery, but Victor was new and he had learned that any friend was better than no friends.

"Nice to meet you, too. So, can you give me a tour?"

He followed Mary Margaret all over campus, listening to her give the run down on the classes, teachers, and students when the most enchanting laugh rang in his ears and clouded his brain.

It belonged to a girl surrounded by a group with all eyes on her. Victor had never seen such a beautiful creature—perfect smile, her hair a medley of red and brown and offset by a pale complexion and light eyes—he was struck.

"Who is she?"

"That's Ruby. Pretty, isn't she?" Mary Margaret stared along with him. "She's really nice, too. When she knocked me over in the hallway once, she smiled and apologized." Victor looked puzzled, so she added sheepishly, "Not a lot of people apologize for that kind of thing around here."

"Does she have a boyfriend?" Not that it mattered, Victor could feel it; he was convinced of it. This was the girl he was meant to meet. Fate sent them to this town, a town where he could finally settle in without being uprooted, and fate wanted him to meet Ruby. Or, that's what his skewed adolescent brain was telling him.

"Well, kind of... Jefferson, he's a senior, too. I know he's been trying to—"

"I'm going to go talk to her," he said in a daze.

"No—no—no—no! I wouldn't do that." She ushered him back inside and cut off his protests, "It's your typical high school here. You should know! The popular kids only fraternize with the popular kids."

"I don't buy into that stuff—oh look, she's walking over!" Victor ran up behind Ruby and when she turned around from the water fountain, she jumped.

"Seriously, dude! You shouldn't creep up on people like that." Ruby walked away, but Victor followed alongside her.

"I'm sorry! I just, uh, let me start over. I'm Victor, I just transferred." He held out his hand which she hesitantly took, eyeing him strangely.

"I'm Ruby. Okay," she pried her hand out of his, "well, it was nice to meet you."

"Hey, I was actually wondering if maybe you'd like to hang out sometime. I'm still new around here, but you have to have a movie theater somewhere, right?" Victor said smoothly. He really wasn't that awkward; he was actually good at talking to people, but Ruby took his breath away and with a dizzied head, he was having a more difficult time keeping his composure.

"Wait…" She graced him with her famous heart-melting smile. "Are you, like, trying to ask me out?" Victor nodded enthusiastically. "Oh that's so cute!" She was staring at him like he was a puppy who'd just done something adorably stupid, but, of course, Victor didn't see it that way—clouded mind and all.

"So, what do you say?" Suddenly it her; Ruby decided to see if she could work this to her advantage and wrapped her arm around his then started to stroll down the hall.

"Well, Vincent—"

"Victor," he corrected, trying not to trip over himself.

"Whatever—I'd love to, but my dad has this rule. My freedom is decided by my older sister; can't do anything she's not doing."

"So, you're saying that if your sister was to go out, then you'd be free to go out?"

"Totally, but good luck with that. She's a real bitch. It's a shame," she batted her eyelashes, "like I said, you're pretty cute." Victor never stood a chance against Ruby's charm—nor did he stand a chance of dating her.

"It can't be that hard right? Just have to find the right guy; someone who's not afraid of a more challenging girl."

"You would do that for me?" Ruby peered up at him with her crystal green eyes, knowing full well the magical effect this little question had on her victims.

"I'd do anything for you," he blurted out. This blind willingness was the product of 'love' at first sight, teenage hormones, and hopeless romanticism. He was just another poor sap wrapped up in Ruby's web and she totally knew it.

"Well, you know where to find me when you do." She dropped his arm and waved, "Bye, Vincent!"

"It's Victor!" He went back to an uneasy Mary Margaret, "Mary Mar—"

"Don't even say it! I'm not helping you with this one." She threw her hands up and started to back away.

"Oh, come on! You're supposed to be my high school guardian angel! Help me out," he pleaded.

"Do you even know who her sister is?" she whispered. As if on cue, an annoyed and very loud Emma rounded the corner with David tailing.

"What the hell is it? Asshole Day?!"

Mary Margaret's eyes followed David while he tried to keep up with Emma. Little did he know that she purposely took the early bus so she could bump into him at the donut shop he always went to.

"Please don't tell me that's—"

"Oh yeah."

"I saw that look, you know. When that guy walked by."

"What look? I didn't give a look," she said too quickly.

"Look at you. You're blushing so hard you almost match your sweater." She tried to hide her face. "If you help me, I'll help you."

"That would never work…"

"Why not? I recognize him. He's in almost all of my classes! That's plenty of time for me to put in a good word for you—let you know what he likes and all that."

"He'd never go for me," she mumbled.

"Have some faith. These things always work out. What do we have to lose? Come on, Mary Margaret. It's our senior year, do something crazy!"

At that, Mary Margaret's head snapped up and she actually considered it.

She really didn't have anything to lose. She was already at the bottom of the social totem pole. Besides, if anything humiliating did happen—well, anything more humiliating happened—she'd eventually get over it… and make sure she went to a college on the opposite coast for good measure.

"Okay." Her own voice shocked her, but she kept with it. "Alright, yeah," the determination in her voice growing, "Let's do this. We can go this."

On the other side of school, Killian was already walking through the parking lot to his car.

He only showed up for chemistry when they were using the lab; so many opportunities to shake things up in there. As for his last class—English—he couldn't even remember the last time he sat through that. Mrs. Lucas had grown impatient of his games and practically sent him out to study hall before he could even take one step through the door. Yeah, three classes was enough for today.

Killian was miserably bored.

Emma seemed permanently aggravated with life.

Ruby was smug with her endless line of admirers.

Jefferson was determined to make Ruby is latest conquest.

Victor racked his brain trying to come up with a scheme.

Mary Margaret sadly pined over David.

David was just sadly oblivious.

Gold was drained from raising two girls.

Ms. Belle was still blushing and looking up synonyms for 'moan.'

And lastly, Principal Regina Mills was flipping off a student who was mooning her from the rooftop across the courtyard.


	2. Game of Love

It took them two days to formulate a plan. It was time well spent because this scheme seemed crafty enough to work. The only danger was that it involved using the enemy. The one person who posed a threat as far as Ruby was concerned, but was motivated enough to buy into it; Jefferson.

With him in the picture, they'd have the resources to actually recruit someone; the little snob was stupidly rich and too full of himself that he'd never notice Victor's roll in all of it.

Hire a guy, distract Jefferson, and get the girl. Piece of cake, right? Now all it required was for Mary Margaret to set things in motion.

"Okay," Mary Margaret hopped up and down to calm her nerves. "I can do this."

"Yes, you can. Just stick to the plan, what we practiced, and be cool."

"Okay, okay… I'm going to walk right up and tell him to listen up because I—"

"He's about to leave! Go already!" Victor propelled Mary Margaret into the lion's den. Standing there amongst the crowd of 'beautiful people,' she was painfully aware of her clothes, her shrinking posture, and the way the tips of her fingers trembled.

"Can we help you?" the life-sized Barbie, cheerleader edition, hissed.

"I need to speak with Jefferson, please." The strength and confidence in her voice must've gotten stuck in her throat because all that came out was a nervous squeak followed by a very apparent gulp.

"Nah, I'm cool," he declined. Just like that! He dropped a roadblock in their plan and she hadn't even proposed it yet. Mary Margaret's eyes flitted over to Victor who gave her a covert thumbs up. She had to do this—for the both of them.

"I have something important to say," Mary Margaret spoke with a clear voice and chin up. She had almost convinced herself that she was invulnerable; that is, until the cheerleader whipped out a marker and started to write on her forehead. Mary Margaret carried on anyway. She was used to this and besides, she had a mission right now and running away wasn't an option.

"Well, spit it out!"

"Ruby Gold—I know she can't date, but I may have a way to make that happen!" By the time Mary Margaret had forced out the words, Jefferson had gotten up to pull her away from the group.

"Okay, I'm listening."

"Like I said, everyone knows that Ruby can't date because of her older sister, but I have a way to fix that for you."

"So what's this master plan of yours and why are you helping me?"

"If I can find a guy willing to go out with Emma Swan, maybe for some kind of compensation, then Ruby is free to go out with you."

"Hire someone to go out with The Bitch? Yeah right, no one's going to go for that."

"I can take care of it! I'll interview. Do research. Whatever it takes; I'll handle it. All I ask in return is that you kindly leave me alone for the rest of the year. I just want a prank-free senior year." She didn't really have to lie about that one; it was the sad truth.

"Hmm, my friend over there really likes messing with you though, but I think I can work something out if you can get Emma out of the way."

"Good! Great! Then we have a deal?"

"Deal. Just send your guy over _if_ you find him. Oh, and good luck—you're going to need it."

Jefferson walked back to his group with a little more bounce in his step and Mary Margaret met up with Victor.

"It worked!" He wasn't smiling.

Then, she remembered the marker incident and gave him a tired, miserable look.

"She wrote 'Virgin' on my face, didn't she?" He just nodded while she accepted what would hopefully be that last time they'd pick on her.

"Let's get some wet paper towels," he consoled.

* * *

Mary Margaret and Victor compiled a list of potential suitors for Emma Swan and the next day, they tried to recruit someone, but they weren't so fortunate. Some boys had actual fear in their eyes and others walked away laughing like it was some sick joke.

"There's no one left on the list, Victor." An exhausted Mary Margaret let her head fall forward onto the table with a thud.

"Forty guys! Forty! And not one of them was willing to do it. Not even for money! What is up with her sister?" Victor exclaimed and paced back and forth.

"Emma Swan has a bit of a bad reputation here. I told you this before."

"I can't believe we ran through all our options and it's not even halfway through lunch. I think we're in way over our heads."

"Sorry, Victor." She sounded so defeated. The usual chipper in her voice dead. This wasn't just a failure for Victor; her hopes were crushed, too. They had a deal. He gets Ruby and she gets David, but neither seemed possible anymore.

It was like he could sense her deflating optimism.

"I know how hard you tried to help me. Don't think that just because it's not working out for me that I'm not going to help you." Mary Margaret lifted her head to study his face.

"Why would you do that?"

"You're my friend. At least one of us is going to get that happy ending, okay?"

"Really? Your friend?" Her face lit up again.

In four years at this school, she'd never heard anyone call her their friend. She wasn't about to let the only one she had down. She wasn't a quitter, she was a fighter; four years of non-stop torment had taught her that. It was time to get creative.

"I'm not going to give up either. We can do this. We just need to rethink this! What about someone from another school?"

The roar of an engine and very loud music caught their attention.

"Who would show up this late?" Victor looked over at the car pulling up not too far from them.

"Killian Jones. Don't get involved with him. He's trouble. Like, 'threw a chair at a teacher back in his old school' kind of trouble. That's why he had to transfer here."

"He's perfect! Why wasn't he on the list?"

"I just said he was all kinds of trouble!"

"Which is why he's our guy!"

"We need someone to _date_ Emma Swan. Not sic a psychopath on her!"

"Hear me out. He's obviously not afraid of danger and, more importantly, we don't have any other options. He's our last hope. This is fate! I'm telling you, that's our guy."

"Well, good luck getting close enough to talk to him."

"Maybe we don't have to. I think it's time you pay Jefferson another visit. He's the wallet after all."

* * *

"Hey, virgin, how's our little arrangement coming along?" Jefferson waved off his friends so they could chat in private.

"Unfortunately, I've exhausted all of our options except for one. Whether he's willing might be a problem, but I thought you could sell it to him better than I could."

"No problem, I've got money to burn. So where is Emma's knight in shining armor?" Mary Margaret looked out the cafeteria window and pointed to the lone figure leaning up against the back building.

"Him."

"Whoa… I heard some dude screwed him over and Jones blew up his car—because _he thought_ _the guy was still in it_."

"Yup, and then kept the license plate as a souvenir," she added. They watched a group of girls strutting by, trying desperately to get Killian's attention.

"No other options, huh?" Jefferson asked a little unnerved.

"None. He's your last chance of hope with Ruby."

"Well then, time to go buy Emma a boyfriend."

* * *

Killian needed lunch to go by faster. Classes were easy because at least they afforded him some distraction with the repetitive lectures and stupid answers from his classmates. Lunch, on the other hand, felt like the longest period of the day.

Aside from a few other guys he hung out with from time to time, he never really got involved with anyone or anything here. He could hardly remember his teachers' names let alone the cookie-cutter teenage clones around him. They were all the same and all dreadfully dull.

He lifted the pack of cigarettes and pulled one out with his mouth. He was fishing around in his pocket for a lighter when he felt someone slap him on the back.

"Hey there! Jones, right?" Killian took out his unlit cigarette and fell back against the wall. He gave Jefferson a curious look and crossed his arms.

He'd seen this joker around school. So full of himself with the way he walked around like he was king of the castle.

Even now, as he nodded and called out to every cheerleader heading back inside, keeping Killian waiting.

"You're losing my attention."

"I need you to take out this chick so I can date her sister. Stupid family rules, you know?" Killian stared at him in disbelief then laughed right in his face.

"Sorry, mate. Not interested."

"I can pay you." Now that caught Killian's interest.

"And the lucky lass?"

Jefferson sucked in a shallow breath. "Emma Swan." He waited for Killian's reaction, but Killian remained clearly unimpressed, making Jefferson gawk more.

"What the bloody hell are you staring at me for? Is this Swan girl supposed to scare me?"

"No, not at all! She's just a little hard to get to know," he lied. "So twenty bucks a date. Deal?"

Killian took his time answering. He wanted to see Jefferson squirm and it didn't take as long as he thought before the overconfident rich boy started to look nervous. It was time to exploit Jefferson's silly intimidation of this girl.

"You see," Killian circled around him slowly. "She'll want to go to the boardwalk or something—that's thirty. There are rides—that's another ten. Then she'll ask me to win her some stuffed animal—we're up to fifty—and at last, she'll want to go out to eat afterwards. That's another twenty-five. So, we're looking at seventy-five a date."

"Dude, you're joking, right? No way."

"Then it's not worth my time."

"Alright, forty."

"Who said we were haggling?"

"Fine, fifty, but that's my walk away price." Killian smirked. He was seriously being paid to do what he did best—make a girl fawn over him.

"Deal. So, where do I find this girl?"

"Oh, I've got a little minion who's going to help you out with that—her name's Mary Margaret Blanchard, a cardigan wearing nerd. You can't miss her."

"Well, send the little lass my way."

"You've got until Graham Humbert's party. I need her sister there." It was supposed to be the most massive and off the wall party of the year, but everything Humbert planned usually was.

"Consider it done. Oh, and cash up front, if you please."

Jefferson grumbled something about getting the job done and as Killian walked away, he smirked and lit his cigarette at last.

That was the easiest hustle he'd ever pulled. He would've done it for the twenty.

* * *

When the bell sounded the students' freedom, Killian made his way down the labyrinth of stairs and over to his car. Even from a distance he could see an uncomfortable Mary Margaret standing very rigidly with some other waving clown.

"Hey, Killian! Welcome to the team," Victor cheered and held out his hand. Killian just stared at Victor with a bemused expression and made no attempt to shake it. He did, however, turn his attention to the displeased girl wearing, as Jefferson had said, a yellow cardigan.

"You, angel, must be Mary Margaret."

"I am," she said curtly.

"Something tells me you're not too fond of me; not like your friend here at least."

"This is Victor. We're here to help," she said all business.

"And why exactly do I need help?" Being paid and assigned a team to date some girl. He hoped she was at least pretty to look at.

"Oh, Killian, that's her, right there!" Victor pointed enthusiastically.

The little yellow bug stopped next to them and the impatient blonde inside started shouting at Jefferson who was taking his sweet time loading in her sister and her friends in front of Emma. Watching her, even with her furrowed brows and pout, Killian's hopes were met.

"Emma Swan is not someone you want to... approach lightly," Victor tried to phrase as nicely as he could. He didn't want to scare off his only chance with Ruby on the first day.

"The more I hear about this girl, the more I wonder why it is I haven't met her."

"Maybe because you never show up to school," Mary Margaret muttered under her breath; not quiet enough because Killian grinned.

"Right. When the mumbling pixie over here finally gets over her prejudices against me and does what she's suppose to do," he looked to her and enunciated slowly, " _which is to_ _help_ , then Jefferson will get his girl."

"Actually Jefferson isn't meant to get the girl, he just thinks he is." Killian raised an eyebrow. "This is all so that _I_ can date Ruby." Killian looked at Victor like it was the dumbest thing he'd ever heard.

"I hope you realize that you're all mad. All this effort for one girl? You're lucky I'm not after her myself or else you all wouldn't stand a chance."

"Well, aren't you self-assured," Mary Margaret said bitingly. He walked up to her and gently lifted her chin up to look at him. She froze.

"Only when it comes to getting what I want," Killian whispered and locked her eyes with his. She'd never been looked at this way. Hell, hardly any people ever glanced at her around school. Now she had an extremely attractive one gazing down at her like she was the most captivating creature he'd ever seen, moving closer to her like he couldn't help himself; like he didn't even understand what was coming over him and couldn't care less.

Still holding her gaze, he tilted his head down toward hers and she became acutely aware of how the distance between them was shrinking little by little. Her heart beat faster while her breaths faltered, too fixated on the warmth of his own settling against her skin. As if sensing her dizziness, Killian gave in, letting his eyes fall, hesitating momentarily on her lips before closing completely. Mary Margaret mirrored him instantly, failing to stop the shaky breath escaping her...

But, then Killian's eyes flew back open, bright and renewed with his clear victory, and pulled away, flipping the intensity off like a switch. Mary Margaret stared at him in confusion, of what had just happened, of him, of how she had felt in the moment. With each millisecond, she felt embarrassment burn away her bewilderment while flaring up her cheeks and ears.

He got her and she knew it. Now, having proven his ability to enchant _any_ girl—even the high-strung ones—he just wanted to rile her up.

"You have a bit of drool just there," he beamed and her mouth dropped open. "Looks like someone likes me," he sang.

"You're incorrigible! It was just—just—instinct!"

"Oh, so your instincts are telling you to like me?"

"You're so—"

"Don't fight it, love. It's perfectly fine to want what you want; for instance, you may try to look all 'white picket fence and daisies' on the outside, but we both know you probably fantasize about the kinkier stuff," he smirked, walking around to the driver's side door.

"That's not—how dare you!" Mary Margaret shouted at him as he slid into his car, making sure she could see his grin on full display. "You, you scoundrel!"

Killian leaned out the window and shouted over the roar of the engine. "I've decided I don't need your help, thanks. No doubt I've got far more than this Emma Swan can handle anyway." He drove off extremely pleased with how red her face shown in his side mirror.

"Mary Margaret... You okay?"

"He is an absolute pig. He's trouble, I told you!"

"I don't know. I think he'll be able to pull it off. I mean, for a minute, even you were going for it."

"I did no such thing!" Yes she did. "Fine. If he wants to do this on his own, better for me!"

Mary Margaret stomped away without so much as a goodbye to Victor.

It was out of his hands now. He prayed to the universe to send him a miracle, to make sure everything would work out.

"Vincent!" Prayer answered.

"Ruby! How's it going?" It didn't matter to him that she constantly forgot his name. He'd change it to Vincent if he had to.

"Ugh. Not good." Ruby sat across from him and ranted about her day. "Clarissa got _purple_ highlights! She's totally copying me and everyone knows it, but still. Some people just don't have any decency, you know?" Like how she was using poor Victor to get her dating privileges, but she didn't think about it that way.

Victor was about to reply, but she continued to yammer on, and in all of this she spent only a few seconds complaining about failing her test.

"Don't be upset! Like you said, the cool hair color is _your_ thing." Oh god, he was talking about highlights, but he didn't care. Ruby Gold was sitting and talking to him after school. "And, I do like the olive instead of the blue one. It'll be beautiful because it matches your eyes—"

"Wow, you really listen." A genuine smile crept onto her face. Then she remembered what his purpose really was and switched the subject. "How's it going with the man hunt?"

"We found him! Who knows maybe we can even get your sister to go to prom," he hinted.

Prom.

Jefferson had already asked yesterday, confident that his 'secret' plan to get Emma out of the way would work, and of course Ruby said yes.

"Coolness," she said uncomfortably. "Um, I better go. Got tons of studying and yeah. Later, Vincent."

"Victor," he finally corrected. "You know, I could tutor you!"

"Really? You know about old poems and stuff?"

"Oh yeah! I love old poems and stuff. Um, it's so interesting with the meanings and... Poetry is awesome."

"Aw, you would do that for me?" she echoed their first meeting. "Meet you in the library after school tomorrow. Bye, Victor!"

He smiled the whole walk home because Ruby Gold remembered his name. Too bad he couldn't see that she was so obviously playing him. Then again, weren't they all just game pieces in this giant debacle?

First, Ruby had come up with the idea so that she could be with Jefferson. Mary Margaret and Victor designed a fixed game for Jefferson to carry out. All the while, Jefferson thought he was slick with his secret plan to be with Ruby.

It was a huge high school mess, but everything was in place.

Now all that was left was for Killian Jones to win over Emma Swan—and for Victor to figure out how he was going to become an expert on classical poetry for Ruby.

* * *

It was a brand new school day and the place was already littered with posters advertising the newly elected prom theme. Emma stood and criticized the bad graphics and horrible catch phrase on the poster.

She was in a mood after a night of arguing with her father again, but no surprise there. What gave her a headache was when Ruby got mixed into it and started shouting at Emma for being selfish and controlling her life.

"Ugh, prom is such a waste of school funds."

"Oh, I don't know, I think it could be fun," David replied.

"Right, the lame music, hideous dresses, and bad food; sounds like the time of our lives."

"Hey, I'll have you know my dress is beautiful." She laughed, punching him lightly on the shoulder. "Hold on, I've got to go to my locker."

"Me too." The very person she was so intent on avoiding happened to be leaning right next to her locker though, reeking of arrogance.

"Look who's storming down the hall all serious. Done sucking the joy out of everyone today, Emma?"

"Leave me alone, Jefferson."

"Ooh, someone's moody today—and every other day. You should have that checked out. I don't think it's normal for a girl to be PMS-ing all the time."

"Whoa clever! Watch out, don't push that brain of yours too hard, it might blow up from the strain."

"Aw, Emma, you used to be so much fun. What happened?"

"I realized that I was surrounded by jackasses." She slammed her locker closed and strode towards David.

"Is Jefferson messing with you again?" He sent a warning glance back at Jefferson who merely saluted and strolled away.

"What else is new?"

"I told you before and I'll say it again; just ask and I'll teach him a lesson."

"Listen to you," she cracked a smile. "Thanks, _dad_ , but I can handle it myself."

"I know, but sometimes I wish you didn't always have to."

Her face softened and she was going to say something overly sentimental to her best friend when somebody ran into her so hard that she dropped everything.

"Sorry, love, wasn't paying attention."

"Yeah, no kidding," Emma responded and went to gather her things. She looked up at the jerk with the accent and she had to admit he was kind of cute with his messy dark hair and his whole 'I rolled out of bed looking this gorgeous' appeal. He noticed her staring a little longer than necessary and the corner of his lips twitched up.

"You missed one." Killian held out her book then retracted it as soon as she went for it. "Ah, ah, ah. Not so quick, Miss…?"

"Give me back my book."

"Rather odd name, isn't it?" She tried to snatch it again, but he was too quick and jerked it back with little effort. "How about I give you your book in exchange for your real name?"

"Or you could just give her back her book," David tried to intervene.

"Sorry, mate. Didn't know she was taken." Killian faked an apologetic look.

"Oh, no—she's not—we're not—"

While David was wrapped up in his explanation, Killian gave Emma his charming half-smile.

"I'm Killian. Killian Jones." She took her book back before he had a chance to keep playing this game with her. "So, beautiful, since he's not your boyfriend we should go out later. What do you say?" He turned up the charm another notch by reaching out to tuck a loose strand of golden hair behind her ear.

"I don't think so buddy, but thanks for the name. Now I know what to inscribe on your tombstone if you ever touch me again."

She turned on her heel and charged through the crowd as fast as possible; leaving Killian standing there a little disturbed. That usually did it—with the whole hair trick, but it hadn't even fazed her.

Determined to prove the angry little pixie wrong, Killian wasn't going to give in just yet. He could do this on his own; he didn't need _help_. He did his best to shake off her rejection—something he definitely wasn't used to.

Didn't work.

Out of school and browsing around in his sanctuary, he was still bothered by his first encounter with the infamous Emma Swan. As fortune would have it, he spotted her little yellow bug parked near his music store.

Killian moved towards her car and slipped behind Emma. He leaned up against her door and watched as she unsuccessfully searched for the keys in her bag. He tried to muffle his chuckling at how frustrated she was getting and noticed something shining on the floor.

He whispered into her ear. "Looking for these?" Emma jumped and twisted around.

Killian dangled them in front of her then lifted them out of her reach just as he had earlier that day.

"Remember me? I'm the guy you threw yourself at in the hallway today."

"You ran into me, you jackass!" She lunged for her keys, but he held them behind his back.

"It's _Killian_ , darling. Nice car you have here. We should take it for a ride sometime—check out the suspension," he winked.

"No thanks, but if you want to check out my brakes, you could always stand in front of it while I drive at you." She cocked her head to the side and gave him yet another venomous smile.

"Well aren't you a feisty one. I'm only joking; meant no harm. Here, let's make another deal—I'll give you your keys in exchange for a date."

"So… You're basically holding me hostage until I agree to go out with you?"

"It doesn't sound as romantic when you say it."

"You don't even know me."

"That's usually what dates are for."

"And why would I ever want to know you?"

"Because I'm devilishly handsome."

She was about to reply back, but her eyes widened slightly at something approaching behind him. When he looked back, too, she stole her keys and did her best to get out of there as soon as possible.

Killian rolled his eyes at the convertible driving over. For a minute, he'd at least gotten her to talk to him without making death threats, but now she'd been scared off by The Idiot.

Before she could pull out, Jefferson stopped his car right in back of hers just to spite her. Emma rolled down her window and fumed at him.

"Move your damn car!"

"Nope," he strode passed her and gave a slight nod to Killian who was about to use the opportunity to keep talking to her, but she angrily slammed the gear shift into drive, rolling forward as much as she could in her parking space. Killian furrowed his brows wondering what she intended to do. It clicked. She wanted to build up force.

She threw her car in reverse and slammed right into the side of Jefferson's pretty little car.

"You bitch!" Jefferson paled and ran back.

Killian couldn't help himself. He laughed and marveled at Emma. As much as it infuriated him that she was being so stubborn, he had to admire her boldness. Their eyes met and Killian saw for the very first time a real smile grace her lips.

"Well done, lass," he applauded.

* * *

Her father wasn't so amused though.

"Daddy, she ruined his car!" Ruby cried out, eyes glistening with crocodile tears as she stared angrily at her sister.

"It was an accident. I thought I was tapping the brakes," Emma smiled into her book hoping her father wouldn't see.

"Oh, you and I both know, dearie, that this was no accident. Are you trying to kill me? Just be honest because I think it's quite obvious that I'm not your favorite person in the world."

"I told you. I thought the gas pedal was the brake pedal… and I guess I was a _little_ mad."

" _A little_ —you were angry so you decided to skyrocket my insurance which, by the way, does not cover PMS. You know who's _a little mad?_ Me! I'm mad!"

"So what if it spikes up a little bit. Isn't a rare moment of happiness in your daughter's life worth it? Especially since you're ruining my future." Ruby walked between her father and Emma.

"Can you stop being such a bitch all the time? You're always whining about moving away, but no matter where you go, you're always going to be a freak!"

"Ruby, don't talk to your sister like that," Gold ordered.

"Why not? She hates her life, so she's always trying to ruin mine! You're so embarrassing. You won't let me date! You won't let me go to school dances! You won't let me go to Graham's party—"

"Party? What party? Who said you could go to a party?" Gold demanded.

"Look at that." Emma snuck out of the room, but not before whispering to Ruby, "And now I'm off the hook."

"I didn't mean like a party-party, daddy. Studying with the girls is just so fun."

"Did you honestly think that would work?"

"You're overreacting."

"No. Overreacting would be me beating this Jefferson boy until he learns never to touch my daughter."

"Yeah right," Ruby mumbled.

"Don't think I can do it? Trust me, this cane is sturdy enough."

"Ugh!" She stomped up the stairs and slammed her door shut.

In the next room over, Emma sang merrily along with the radio. Jefferson's face when she hit his prized possession was priceless and she had an audience at that; even if that audience was a frustrating boy from school who wouldn't leave her alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to sneak Graham in there somehow. He'll make a guest appearance. Hope you liked it!


	3. Something New

The ear-splitting explosion of Killian's alarm clock jolted him awake. With blurred vision, he fumbled with the buttons before resorting to just slamming his palm down on top of it in hope that he'd hit the right one. By his third try, the piercing sound stopped and he let his arm hang limply off the bed; burying his face back into his pillow and relishing the sweet silence that once again filled the room.

Ten minutes later, the alarm attacked him again and he felt his heart try to hurdle its way out of his chest. Having battled this enemy before, he knew exactly where to hit the evil little machine and finally won the war. He was trying to process the numbers that the clock read; 7:10 am. Why in hell was he being awoken at this hour and why did he make himself victim to a _second_ assault ten minutes later?

With his head still hovering above his pillow, it clicked together in his head: School. Morning. Swan. Woo.

The conflict he faced lasted only six seconds then he nuzzled back into that welcoming pillow of his. It felt like heaven. He let out a content sigh and fell back asleep with a smile on his face.

Before Killian knew it, he was walking through turquoise waves that swelled above him. He glanced back towards the bottom of the ocean looking for something, but he didn't know what. When turned back around, he was standing on the magenta colored sand of a distorted beach.

The people, whom he vaguely recognized, chattered around him and ignored his entrance. He did acknowledge both Mary Margaret and Victor in the crowd, and, far behind them, a yellow bug. How it was this far on the beach was a mystery, but what drew his attention most was a blonde dressed in her usual blue leather jacket leaning against it. He averted his eyes and attempted to walk away, but Emma appeared right next to him. He felt nervous and naked in front of this Emma and tried to talk to her with garbled nonsense. She just gave him a small frown and, with uncharacteristic concern in her eyes, reached out for his hand then—

He woke up dazed while his mind transitioned from the madness of his dream world to reality. He shook his head and laughed at the bizarreness. What was he doing walking on the sea floor? And, the weird colored sand? How did a car end up on a beach? Lastly, there was no way in hell that Emma Swan would ever look at him like that.

He could barely fathom _how_ he had envisioned that expression on her face. That wasn't a look he'd even seen on her, let alone towards him. So far there had been anger, irritation, suspicion, and maniacal grinning when she maimed Jefferson's car.

It felt strange still and it was hard to shake off. Killian couldn't remember the last time someone looked at him that way. Not even his uncle worried about him. He felt himself reading into this stupid dream too much, so he stretched and sat up.

It was 1:25 pm. No wonder he was tripping out. He felt the lingering anxiety from his dream crawling all over his skin and was tempted to go back to sleep just to escape it, but it was time to finally set off and do what he was supposed to do: seduce the girl who had turned his dream into a nightmare and get out of the house before his uncle came back for lunch.

* * *

Emma was still riding the high of yesterday's events. She didn't let that argument with her father and Ruby get her down. It didn't faze her at all really. She had a smile plastered on her face that even David kept teasing her about. According to him, it was a sign to start prepping for the end of the world because, "Emma Swan was smiling _in_ school." How could she not? At lunch, she described her wonderful performance yesterday.

First, she destroyed Jefferson's shiny silver sports car and rich-boy had to take his mother's station wagon. Second, the look of Ruby's face, when she exited the car as fast as possible, was priceless. Third, she was pretty much off the hook because, fourth, Ruby was so busted for letting her party plans slip, and, as an added bonus, Jefferson stalked off every time he saw her; making for a harassment-free day.

In her math class though, one of the office aids requested her presence in the principal's office. Of course everyone around her 'Oooed' and snickered as she navigated through the desks, but she did so with purpose; and more importantly, she sauntered over with the smirk of a seasoned trouble maker and a mask of fearlessness. Honestly, she had absolutely no idea what she had done to be called up there, but Emma wasn't about to let these morons see her worried; she had a reputation to uphold.

"Miss Swan! Just the girl I wanted to see." Principal Regina was glowing and it was a little unsettling for Emma to see her so _happy_.

"But I haven't done anything." She frowned, completely confused and slightly suspicious of Regina's good mood.

"Oh, I know that. Though, I did hear a few ingrates talking about how you smashed a car?"

"I just ran into it a little—Jefferson, the guy I kicked in the balls last week."

"I have to admire your fire, kid. You remind me a little of myself." Oh god. Emma's face fell at that remark, but Regina paid no attention; she was too self-absorbed for that.

"So… I know you didn't just call me out of class because I wasn't ready for my quiz," Emma said, trying to shake off the—could you call it a compliment?

"I, Miss Swan, am only a few chapters away from finishing my novel!" Regina beamed with pride. "I don't see why I can't have it ready to be critiqued within the next three weeks and you, my dear, are the lucky editor!" Her principal nearly squealed with glee.

"Mrs. Mills…" No way. This had to be a joke. There was no way she was going to review her _principal's_ novel; smut novel at that. "What about Ms. Belle?! She seems… fascinated with your writing! Besides, I'm not entirely sure it's legal—"

"What are you talking about?" Regina laughed. "You're a young adult now and you've proven to be very helpful in my writing process." Emma swore at herself. She wasn't really trying to help her; she was just being a smart-ass most of the time. "Besides, Ms. Belle blushes too easily, if you know what I mean."

"I don't think others would find it very appropriate, so sorry about that." Regina's smile faded a little as she picked up on the reluctance in Emma voice.

"Legal, yes. You're eighteen, there's no issue there. Appropriate? Eh, not so much," she conceded. "But some would also deem _not_ expelling someone for verbally and physically assaulting several of my students, just this last year alone, inappropriate, too." Blackmail. "If we're going to correct my _conduct_ and the way I run this school, then maybe I should start with some of the delinquents who managed to escape by. Say, right before graduation?"

Emma wasn't scared or angry, but she was in shock. She had tried and, well, it couldn't be that bad, right? It's not like she didn't have a few of those books hidden in her room. "Alright, alright. I'll do it." Like she had any other choice, but she was still stunned.

"I'm so thrilled!" Regina snapped back into her delighted, even girlish, demeanor. "It's short, I promise you. Only about—hold on—a 30,000 word count."

"30,000! How does Reginald even have that kind of stamina?" Emma asked.

"It's not purely _intimate_ , Swan. There's actually quite the love story in here." Well, that was a relief…?

"Okay. Well, good luck with those last chapters. If you don't mind, I'm going to skip the rest of math. I didn't study."

"Skip it! Skip the whole damn day if you want," Regina authorized, too elated to care. Emma's face must have been priceless. She could feel how wide her eyes were and how her raised eyebrows seemed to be stuck. Her jaw even hung a little as she retreated slowly from the room. "Good bye, Miss Swan! Don't worry, I'll find you when I'm finished!" Regina flashed a toothy smile. It was like someone abducted their principal—or she confiscated some uppers from the burnouts at school.

Emma swung the office door open, still floored and amazed at what just happened, and hit someone.

"Oi! Watch it!" She, again, recognized that accent and turned to the boy who was clearly just showing up for the day. "Oh. It's you, Beautiful." He smiled at her and at this fortuitous event. "I've decided to call you that until you give me your real name."

Emma glanced at him and didn't make any attempt to retort or run away. She just closed the door with a soft click and looked back at him.

"Are you okay, Beautiful?" Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't share anything with anyone other than David, but he wasn't here and this wasn't exactly normal.

"Mills just blackmailed me into reading her adult novel." Killian cracked a smile and couldn't help but burst out in laughter. Even Emma chuckled at the ridiculousness of this all. "This principal… I swear. I just—I can't—"

"Come on, love, I'll walk you to class. You've clearly been traumatized." Why was this so funny to her? She laughed easily and Killian observed that he probably wasn't talking to _Emma Swan;_ he was in the presence of just Emma and he was surprisingly very pleased with this side of her.

"I'm not going to class. I'll fail that quiz," she grumbled and was just starting to sober up when Killian grabbed her hand and pulled her after him.

"Then us trouble-makers should probably keep on the move," he called to her before they set off to run through the halls and down staircases.

Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the shock, or maybe it was just this sensation of something new breaking the monotony of this place, but she let him lead her and didn't suppress her laughter while they ran passed classrooms. They jumped down sets of stairs and when she tripped, he lurched forward to catch her, but then kept them moving. He didn't want to scare her off, not when he was so close to getting through to her.

They finally made it to the field and collapsed in their exhaustion, still smiling and energized.

"Thanks," she panted out, "for catching me back there."

"No worries," he breathed out himself. "So, how _adult_ is this novel of hers?"

She was overcome with a fit of giggles. "She said there's romance, but that's probably her skewed idea of foreplay." There was more laughter and she continued, "You know she left me waiting in there for almost half an hour once, so I went over and read some of it. And, she calls _us_ deviants."

"Well, I'm truly sorry and think I should stick around you when you do edit this novel. Don't want you flinging yourself off cliffs or anything."

"Might take you up on that."

"What did she blackmail you with? Revealing pictures from the girls' locker room? Because I'd be happy to break in and steal them. You might not get them back, but at least they'll be out of her hands." Emma rolled her eyes and smacked his shoulder. "Always abusing me."

"Like you didn't earn that one. There have been certain incidences where I've resorted to more hands-on solutions."

"Just how many guys have you scrapped with?" he inquired with a raised eyebrow. He was good.

"Uh... A handful," she answered vaguely. Emma usually prided herself on her record of victories, but talking about it in casual conversation instead of using it to intimidate some jerk getting in her face felt different. She actually felt a little uncomfortable waiting for his reaction.

"I'm sure they all did something to deserve it. Just like that git with the car yesterday which I still applaud you for."

"Yeah, that was pretty fun. My family didn't appreciate it as much as you do though."

"I'll bet your father was ecstatic that you rammed into some guy's car, right? And your mother, well—don't mothers usually scold their daughters about being ladylike?"

Emma's eyes snapped up and her expression was a little colder than it had been just moments before. "My dad wasn't ecstatic and I don't have a mom." She started picking at the grass, trying to decide whether to get up and leave or not. Maybe he would leave and save her the trouble. She _had_ made it sufficiently awkward. The idea of being alone was starting to look better as the seconds of silence ticked by.

"Mine's dead, too; and my father, well, he's not around anymore—which is a good thing. So, don't say sorry. It's so tiring when people do that."

"Wasn't going to. I don't like being pitied either." She really didn't know anything about this boy except his name and that he had been hell-bent on getting her attention since he bumped into her yesterday. Eventually, curiosity helped put her foot in her mouth, as it often did, and she pried. "So, who takes care of you?" Oh yeah, Emma. That wasn't going to add to the awkwardness at all.

Killian just chuckled at her. She tried to conceal it, but there was no fooling him. She regretted asking and was probably mentally scolding herself for doing so. "I do, but I live with my uncle who lets me get away with murder so long as I drag myself here every day."

"This place does suck. I keep begging to be homeschooled." That tense silence took over again. This conversation had escalated pretty quickly. It wasn't that they were exactly trying to bond with each other; it just felt good to finally say those things out loud and have someone else hear it. It was Killian's turn to put his foot in his mouth, but Emma wouldn't entertain it like he had.

"So, that guy with the car; Jefferson. You two seem to be well acquainted. Is he your ex-boyfriend or—?"

He barely got the first part of the question out before Emma swung her bag over her shoulder and started to walk away. Killian ran over to her and reached for her hand again, each time reminding him a little about his dream. This time, Emma jerked it away and glared at him. How could she be so stupid? How could she just forget something like that? She felt embarrassed thinking about how much she had shared and how she had ran off with some guy around school like an idiot.

"What did I do? I thought we were having fun, Beautiful."

"Don't call me that—"

"Then give me your name." So what if he already knew it? It would mean something more to her if she gave it to him; to allow him to know. The school bell rang faintly in the distance. Math class was over which meant that all of this was over, too. Whatever it was.

"I've got to go," she insisted and he did let her go on ahead of him. There was no use trying to get through right now. Her walls were back up and she was Emma Swan again; their little rendezvous over.

It didn't stop him from trying again after school.

"Hey, Beautiful," Killian called out. She kept moving, but he caught up and maneuvered himself in front of her.

"Go away, Killian," she said with a little less conviction than usual. He blocked her path when she tried to walk around him. His reflexes were too fast for her, but she knew this already, didn't she?

"That's the first time you've said my name. I hate to break it to you, darling, but I think I'm starting to make an impression."

"Like I said before. Tombstone." Wow, a death threat despite everything that had happened earlier. Her answers were short and she refused to look him in the eye, so he resorted to provoking and trying to seduce her.

"Someone's got her knickers in a twist. Is this because you find me irresistible? Don't fight it, love."

"Don't flatter yourself, buddy. There's no way in hell you'd ever have any effect on my _knickers_." She tried to take off to the side, but Killian effortlessly prevented her again. This time, however, he closed in on her.

"Then what _do_ I have an effect on?" With only inches separating them she could feel the charge in the atmosphere around them as before when they ran through the school like it was their own. For a moment, Emma almost fell into that trap of watching his eyes flutter down to her lips, but she was stronger than teenage hormones or at least determined to be.

' _Think, Emma! Think! Don't look into his eyes. How are they so blue? They are ridiculously blue! How is that even possible? Like the sky or—No! Stop! Focus!'_

Killian noted her hesitation. Perhaps she wasn't so invulnerable to his seduction after all; just a really tough nut to crack.

"Other than my urge to sucker punch you right now? Nothing at all."

This girl had a lot of fire in her and he'd be lying if he said she didn't ignite some kind of spark in him, too. He was in unfamiliar territory with Emma Swan. She challenged him, kept him on his toes, and it didn't hurt that she was pretty damn cute when she was mad—glares, death threats and all. "You know what I think, pet?"

"Don't call me that and I don't care what you think."

"I think," he continued, "that you would actually have a good time with me."

She rolled her eyes and assumed the worst. "Oh and by 'good time' you mean—" Killian cut her off.

"You'd have fun and forget about that idiot, Jefferson, and this hellish pit for a few hours." She was taken aback by how earnest he sounded. There weren't any underlying meanings, no innuendos, and the way he was staring at her wasn't like it had been a second ago. He was waiting for her reaction because he didn't know what to expect after trying a bit of honesty.

"Again, why would you do that?" she said softly and absolutely bewildered.

She was supposed to sound cynical and intimidating, but what came out didn't sound as edgy. She wanted to smack herself for sounding like she cared because she didn't care—lie—she was just curious—partly a lie.

"I like you. You're one of the most interesting people I've had the pleasure of meeting. Although you still won't let me call you anything but Beautiful, but maybe that's been your plan all along." Killian smiled.

Her lie detector wasn't going off. There wasn't even a flicker of dishonesty in those magnetic blue eyes of his. Not even a hint of a double meaning when he said _pleasure_. "I…" Emma just couldn't keep her eyes on his and looked everywhere else but at him.

That's when she recognized, off to the right, her sister's laugh and saw Jefferson's arm around her waist, pulling her close to him like she was a prize, a trophy. Seeing her baby sister in the clutches of that vile jerk, Emma narrowed her eyes and met Killian's again, but this time there was nothing soft about her.

"But you haven't _met_ me. Do you think that just because I told you some stuff about myself that you're a friend? Newsflash. You don't know who I am. You don't know my name. And you sure as hell won't ever get me to go out with you. I know people like you. You think you can get anything you want with a smile here and a few compliments there, but that's not going to work on me, pal. So, save yourself the trouble and just stop!"

He blocked her last attempt to walk away and was about to say something when she all but bulldozed him, making him stumble back a little.

"Leave. Me. Alone. Killian." He stood there while she stalked off in back of him.

"See you tomorrow, darling," he called over his shoulder, his voice bitter and strained.

To say that he was pissed would be an understatement. Yes, it irked him that she was too stubborn to give him a chance, but what really got him was what she assumed about him—

Because she had assumed right. The truth stung even worse coming from her mouth because Emma Swan didn't sugar coat things.

The worst part was that Killian actually, for a second, put his real self out there. He hadn't been lying when he said he was starting to like her and again, her rejection wasn't something he was used to. It made him feel inexplicably sick and it hit him on a personal level this time.

He slammed his car door shut, turned up the volume high in an attempt to drown out his thoughts, and drove a little faster than normal to the beach to prove to himself that there were no bright, tropical, turquoise waters; no magenta sand; and finally, no sweet girl walking around, maybe even waiting there for him.

* * *

Emma closed her bedroom door and leaned back against it to decompress. Maybe she had been a little harsh. He was after all telling the truth, she knew that much, but it didn't change who he was… Or did it?

What was happening to her?

She's made guys cry before! She's punched, kicked, kneed, and pushed plenty of guys at school. This shouldn't bother her, but her conscience was just having a field day berating her about this.

She took a page out of Ruby's book and screamed at the top of her lungs. Huh. No wonder Ruby did this so much; it actually felt kind of good. She did it again just because the house was empty and she might as well get it out of her system. The euphoria started to fade along with the high of messing up Jefferson's car.

She was actually starting to feel guilty about that, too. Not because of Jefferson—no, he totally deserved that. Her dad and sister were another story though. Ruby's words echoed in her head. She _was_ making them miserable because she _felt_ miserable.

She even cut down a person who, despite being an annoying ass most of the time, was being genuinely nice to her today. All because of a grudge with someone else.

Two hours flew by and Emma, collapsed on her bed, stared at the posters on her ceiling and ignored the knocks at her door. She couldn't talk to Ruby without lecturing her about staying away from Jefferson and she couldn't talk to her dad without losing her temper when he tried to sell her on the local colleges.

He should understand though; her mother went to this university. Her mother. She felt ashamed wondering about what her mother would think of her today. Keeping secrets, snapping at people who didn't deserve it, and not taking care of her sister without revealing said secrets.

With another pang of guilt, she closed her eyes and after a while she caught herself slipping; she was trying to name that shade of blue eyes that had resentfully stared at her today when she blew up. Maybe if this nausea didn't disappear by tomorrow, she'd apologize.


	4. Mind Games

It was Friday. Finally.

Killian had hoped something interesting would happen and it did; just not in any way he could ever imagine. He was seriously being hired to take out a little blonde spitfire.

He slept dreamlessly, to his relief, but the impact of her words—words that kept him bitterly tossing and turning half of the night—still lingered; and though he would never admit it, he felt a little embarrassed, too.

Yesterday, he spent the afternoon and most of the evening watching the sea swallow the sun and the night blacken the sky. Furiously pacing on the sand, he thought long and hard about what had happened. Sure, she was right about a lot of things, but the most he had done to Emma was tease her a bit. He concluded that he had been nothing but a gentleman to her. It was she who had the problem; and with that thought, he began to dissect her character even more.

She was undoubtedly broken, but stomped around with so much ferocity that no one else seemed to notice it. Despite all the faults he found, he couldn't ignore feeling like there was something special about Emma. So different yet so familiar all at the same time. It was something that kept him incurably curious even in his bitterness. In truth, she captured his attention the second she crashed into that car because for that split-second, when she flashed him her smile, there was nothing cold or lonely about her eyes.

There was a small part of him that wanted to see if he could keep her that way, but he pushed the thought away. It was nothing—lie—he was just a sucker for a challenge—lie again.

At school, Jefferson drifted over along with the dark cloud that'd been following him around ever since Emma took vengeance on his car.

"Just so we're clear, watching her wreck my car doesn't count as a date."

"I'm upping my price."

"What?"

"She's a lot more than you advertised. In fact, one could even call it downright lying. 'A little hard to get to know,' as you said, doesn't exactly do the passion that she puts into her death threats justice."

Killian continued before Jefferson had get a chance to make another excuse.

"For what you've requested of me, a hundred seems fit."

"That's ridiculous! I'm not paying that."

"Then find someone else. I'm sure there are plenty of people lined up to date Swan." That's all it took for Jefferson to cave. He scowled and forked out another fifty.

"I hope you're as slick as you think you are, Jones." As the storm that was Jefferson passed, Killian let out a deep sigh and slammed his locker shut.

It wasn't impossible. That look she had given him before she exploded proved that underneath the thorns, she was still just a girl.

Help from the minions looked more appealing now, though he deplored the thought of Mary Margaret looking smug as hell at his defeat; however, having a little insight and backup with Emma wouldn't hurt since she was clearly not going to give him anything to work with.

On the other side of school, Mary Margaret wasn't smug at all. She was downright terrified about being formally introduced to David. Victor eyed her carefully.

"You look kind of sick." No matter how many times she swallowed, the lump in her throat wouldn't go away.

"Just a little nervous is all," she squeaked. She was beyond nervous; she was practically quaking in her Mary Janes.

"Here—talk about something else. Try to calm yourself down."

"S-so any news on the Emma Swan mission? It feels a little strange not being informed on what's happening."

"Well, you kept insulting him, so what do you expect?" With that, her contempt for Killian burned up her anxiety.

"Brutal honesty is still honesty."

"I did see our guy saying, 'Hi,' to her in the hall yesterday though."

"And they talked?"

"No... Not exactly, but she did look at him! That's progress at least."

"I think my optimism might be rubbing off on you. Anyway, maybe we just have to give her some time to warm up to him. I mean, think about what we're expecting Emma to do! Who would instantly go for someone so rude? Foul. Despicable. Depraved. Obnoxious—"

"Hey, David!" Mary Margaret broke from her rant and, out of instinct, started to retreat. Victor grabbed onto the sleeve of her cardigan and discreetly yanked her back.

"Lab buddy," David returned with a smile. After a beat, Victor looked at her expectantly, but she kept her head angled down.

"David, have you met my friend, Mary Margaret?"

"Blanchard?" Her head snapped up and she met him with skeptical eyes. How could he possibly know who she was, let alone her last name? "I think you were at my table last year." She didn't react to his words, so David prompted, "For Art?"

She only nodded and, without warning, bolted for the door. In her defense though, she felt like she was going to have a heart attack if she stayed any longer.

David's smile withered and he turned to Victor who looked just as disappointed as him.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"Oh, no! Don't hold it against her she's just... Uh, just—Her dog died! Yup, really close. Practically around her whole life."

"Hope she feels better soon."

"I'll let her know that," Victor smiled. This was definitely a good start. "She'll appreciate it. You walking my way?"

The two boys started to walk and Victor tried to find excuses to mention Mary Margaret, but there was no point.

David remembered her better than he let on.

Mary Margaret had kept to herself most of last year. She stood out so much from her peers, but wrongly interpreted it. She was clearly a special person who had convinced herself that she wasn't.

Mary Margaret had a distinct air of sweetness and eyes that glittered with unfaltering hope, but most of all, David admired her unwavering kindness towards everyone—even the people who antagonized her.

For the duration of their class, David had taken it upon himself to be her guardian angel because a particular cheerleader was hell bent on making her suffer. He caught the girl sliding palettes slopping with paint onto the seat of Mary Margaret's chair whenever she'd get up. Each time, David would conveniently go to wash his hands; breezing by and snagging the palette before Mary Margaret noticed.

He washed his hands a lot that semester.

There had been some close calls and glares exchanged, but Mary Margaret never found out. It would've hurt her more knowing that people were trying to harass her, and besides, David wasn't in it for the praise. After thwarting every attempt, her tormentor finally gave up and took her pom-poms to the other side of the class to bask in Jefferson's unwavering conceit and arrogance.

There was something natural about helping Mary Margaret—about protecting her. Having seen her so upset made him uneasy. Maybe it was just residual guardian instincts or maybe because he thought that he was the cause; nonetheless, he was determined to fix whatever he had done.

Victor eagerly waited for Ruby. Yesterday's tutoring session was a bust, so they moved it to lunch. Mary Margaret caught sight of the leggy brunette gliding over and perched in the row behind them.

"Victor!"

Ruby remembered his name, he was no longer Vincent, and if he hadn't been sitting down, his knees would've buckled and left him sprawling on the library floor.

"I'm so sorry I bailed yesterday. There was all this drama and—bleh! I don't want to get into it. Okay, so, how do we do this?" She sounded enthusiastic enough and it helped wipe away his nerves.

"Well, let's look at what we got." She slid over her syllabus and he tried not to cringe at all the poets she had to be familiar with by the end of the semester. He knew squat about poetry beyond 'Hey Diddle Diddle.' One week at a time, he told himself, and luckily this next week wasn't too bad. "Let's see… So all you have to do is memorize ten lines and come up with a short explanation. Yeah, that's not so bad!" he mainly exclaimed to himself.

Ruby bit her lip and confessed, "That's what I got a fail on last time."

"Stage fright?"

"No... Mrs. Lucas's definition of poetry is outdated and close-minded," Ruby ranted, "I mean, I know they were song lyrics, but it's not like they weren't thoughtful. I told her it was a contemporary piece, but she didn't even let me read my summary before telling me to sit down! Then she mumbled something about me being the mini-shrew—she's totally taking her grudge with my sister out on me."

"I'm going to make sure that doesn't happen this time."

"You would do that for me?" It was the magical incantation; the secret to how Ruby managed to get everything she wanted without breaking a nail.

"Yeah we can—"

"Great!" She shot up from her seat and picked up her purse. "Tiffany's going through a horrendous break up and she needs me to play counselor, but I'll see you Monday so I can start memorizing everything you come up with, okay? Thanks, Victor!"

That wasn't exactly how he had envisioned their study date going, but when Ruby looked back and blew him a kiss, he changed his tune. It was for Ruby and he didn't have anything assigned this weekend anyway, so no harm done. Also, they'd definitely be meeting up on Monday and hopefully he'd be able to get her to stay for more than five minutes.

Mary Margaret, hands on her hips and foot tapping, loomed over him, but all Victor could see were perfect red lips pouted just for him.

"What was that?!" she scolded. "You were supposed to tutor her, not do her whole assignment!"

"I believe in good karma."

"Victor, come on! You and I both know that—" He was too elated to care about what she was going to say and changed the topic.

"Did you give it to him?" The commanding presence she'd exuded shriveled up in an instant. She grimaced at Victor, wringing her hands—hands that were still tingling from being pressed against David's chest. "How'd it go?"

It was more like what didn't go with David.

Victor's set up was perfect. He promised to give David his notes when lunch started, but, oh no! He was busy with Ruby. So, there Mary Margaret was; standing at the end of the hall, tugging at the hem of her sweater and planning out what to say to him.

She was going to bat her eyelashes and lightly touch his arm while they laughed about how ridiculous Principal Mills was at last week's assembly. She was going to let him comfort her about the deceased dog she never owned; maybe gradually ease into Graham's upcoming party and, if she was feeling daring, she'd flirt with the subject of prom, just to put the thought in his head.

Pulling back her shoulders, she fixed her eyes on David and glided towards him. The closer Mary Margaret got, the more everything around her became a swarm of blurred colors and indistinguishable noise. She had tunnel-vision and it was for David Nolan. She tapped him on the shoulder wearing her best smile, but when he turned around, it all went down the hole.

"Hey! Mary Margaret." Her name rolled off his tongue so naturally like they were already friends. David spotted the worn pages she carried. "Are those Victor's? Thanks for getting them for me. God, Chem is so painful, huh?"

The smile pressed into her cheeks was stripped away and now she just looked a little bothered, and she was—with herself. David was trying, really trying, to rope Mary Margaret into a conversation, but the only reaction he got out of her was a tense half-shrug and her biting the inside of her cheek. He shied away from her eyes and cleared his throat, desperately thinking of a way to salvage the moment. He began again with the only thing his mind could muster.

"How are you? About your dog, I mean. I'm really sorry. I know what it's like; we lost our Lab a year ago—"

Without letting him finish, she shoved the notes at his chest, twisted around, and followed the current of people streaming down the hall. David clutched the pages thrown at him and frowned at the flash of red leather that appeared next to him.

"What the hell was that about?" Emma queried and guided them both outside.

"I—I don't know. I think I upset her though." He didn't know what he had done wrong. Again.

"So what? You don't have to be Prince Charming all the time."

"I just hope I didn't say something to upset her." Trying to bring his spirits back up, a smirking Emma poked at his side.

"Does David Nolan have a crush?" she teased.

"I don't know," he answered honestly, messing up her hair in return. "She's usually really sweet and, well, obviously pretty; especially when she smiles, but too bad all I do is irritate her," he grumbled then caught sight of Killian Jones walking up the pathway. "Speaking of crushes—don't turn around. Sorry, but it looks like you're on your own today. Mrs. Lucas has me doing my make-up test for the rest of lunch—and here he comes. Good luck!"

"Why? I don't need it. I told you, I'm not going to apologize," she huffed stubbornly. It was easy to escape guilt when you had back up and David was more than encouraging; in fact, she felt absolutely blameless now thanks to him, ignoring the fact that he was completely biased.

"I'm glad. You don't owe him anything. Let me know if I need to punch him later because I'll do it. No questions."

"Aw, true friendship. Go! You're going to run out of time." David walked passed her and narrowed his eyes at Killian who returned it with a smirk.

Emma wasted no time in taking long strides towards the soccer field then hopping down the stadium's concrete steps. Killian found it rather amusing to see her frantically floundering about since it took him only half her effort to catch up.

"Beautiful, just the girl I wanted to see," he leapt down gracefully behind her, hands in the pockets of his black jacket.

"I don't understand you. I thought you'd be done after…" She turned around to look up at him and her words trailed off. For some reason, feeling in the clear about everything was a lot harder when she was face to face with him. She blamed those damn blue eyes of his—the ones that she still couldn't find the right name for.

"Oh, you mean our lover's quarrel yesterday? It's alright, I've found that most ladies find it very frustrating to resist me. The fact that you've held out this long," he grinned, "Well, that must be very frustrating."

"You're so—"

"Charming?"

"Unwelcome."

He rolled his eyes and drawled, "Oh come off it, love. I know I'm growing on you; in fact, I'd wager you've already thought about me naked."

"Hah!" It was Emma's turn to roll her eyes. "In your dreams."

"It's done."

"What's done?" Emma demanded.

"Mission accomplished."

"What? Pestering me to the brink of exhaustion?"

"No—not that," he laughed at her.

She threw her bag down and crossed her arms; she was tired of playing games. Killian jumped down and walked up to her—really close to her, but she didn't shrink away; instead, she glared up at him, daring him to continue.

"You have no choice in the matter anymore, Beautiful. It's been planted in that darling head of yours." Killian tilted his head forward and dropped his voice down to a whisper as if he were telling her a secret. "You see, now that I've talked about you thinking about me naked, you most certainly will think about me naked, but, honestly, who could blame you?"

"You're so full of yourself." Almost strategically, he cocked his head to the side and waited a moment, letting his words sink in. 'It's a stupid little trick, Emma. Don't let him win. He wants you to do that.'

"I bet you're already thinking about it now."

'You need to focus. Just, whatever you do, do not think about him shirtless. Don't think about him—Oh god, you're thinking about him shirtless—'

"No!" She was, in fact, starting to undress him in her mind.

'He seems athletic, so—no! He's so close to me—for the love of god, don't let him win. Pressed up against—STOP!'

"Consider it a gift," he smirked.

'Come on, Emma, you've already admitted it before, he's hot—No, he's a bastard. Fine then, compromise; he's an attractive bastard—'

The two voices were battling so hard with each other that she almost didn't register the sound of his voice.

"I'd ask if you're alright, but judging by the haze you're in, I'd say you're more than alright," he winked.

"Can you go away?!" She couldn't think of anything witty to banter back with; she felt like she'd been mind fucked—'No, Emma. Don't even go there.'

"In case you're wondering, I'm more of a boxers kind of guy," he teased.

"What is your problem?!" He lost hold of his chuckling and his smirk spread into a full grin watching how flustered she was. He just couldn't help himself—one more.

"Maybe next time I'll even moan for you. Give you some more material to work with on those cold, lonely nights. Unless," he gave her a scandalous look, "you're already thinking about it now." She was fuming now and absolutely mortified.

"You must be a real idiot to try to provoke me so much." Back to hiding behind threats, he noted.

"And why is that, Beautiful?"

"Because guys who have the gall to piss me off end up having a very close and personal relationship with the floor." Another threat. Just as Emma was tired of his games, he was tired of her act.

"You're not as scary as you wish people to believe."

"Haven't you noticed? I don't care what people think about me."

"Who are you trying to fool? Sorry, but you're a bit of an open book—it makes your lying a little pathetic."

"Oh come on!"

"Deny it all you want. It's still true."

"You think you're so clever. All you do is manipulate people for your own fun. Guys like you—"

"What about guys like me?" There was a touch of venom in his voice, but it was so subtle and well-played that Emma hadn't noticed it. She did, however, see a black flicker of wickedness dance in those blue eyes of his. His revenge was peeking out and, being the impulsive and impassioned person he was, restraint wasn't really his strong suit.

"You're all pathetic losers for starters. Then there's the compulsive lying that all of you seem to embrace with open arms."

"You want proof, darling? Here's proof—you were hurt; you're still hurting which is why you're so bent on pushing everyone away—namely me! Through shoddy fear tactics at that."

"If I'm so horrible, why do you keep wasting your time on me?"

"What can I say? Love works in mysterious ways."

"If you don't get out of my face right now, I swear I'll—"

"Hurt me?" He stepped even closer just to show how unafraid he was of her act. "Come on, love, don't prove my point for me." They both knew she wasn't an angel and was far from harmless, but there was a problem in this particular situation with Killian. He understood her too well. He saw something else entirely which meant the very thing that allowed her to keep up the little Emma Swan charade—the expectation of her being ruthless—was absent. There was no fear for her to feed on, to play on. He predicted her moves before she could even fully form them and knew just which buttons to press. Worst of all, he reminded Emma Swan that deep down she was still just Emma, and just-Emma had a much harder time keeping up with her reputation.

"You think you're this great badass, but you're just another worthless asshole that the world has to deal with!"

"And you're hopeless. Parading around like you're so bloody invincible. Truthfully, I've never met anyone more scared than you," he barked back. She was going to retort, but he stunned her with his next words. "Hmm, I wonder what did it—perhaps that Jefferson fellow? What? Did he break your little heart?" His words were so calculated that they cut her down more and more with each blow.

"Why are you doing this?!"

"Why, I'm just trying to show you that you're not the only one capable of making assumptions," he hissed, "Oh, but you don't care what people think about you anyway, isn't that right sweetheart?"

He had her trapped within her own words. If she protested, he would win; if she left his words unchallenged, he won, too. What came next was so subtle, he doubted anyone else would have noticed, but those eyes of hers, usually holding such an intense blaze of green, dulled in defeat.

Killian and Emma stood across from each other just staring. His words—her words—hung in the air between them and neither knew what to do about it.

This didn't feel as gratifying as Killian thought it would. He could already feel regret skirting along the edges of his conscience. He tore his eyes from hers and after a moment of silence he spoke.

"Not quite as fun being on the receiving end, is it?" His voice was quiet and even revealing, hardly above a whisper, and just as clearly as he read her, she could hear the twinge in it and understood. She had carelessly hurt him and written it off as nothing. So he hurt her back.

Emma grabbed her bag and shoved passed Killian who still had his eyes trained on the floor. It definitely didn't feel as good as he thought.

She walked off and the farther she moved away from him, the more she felt the stinging harshness of his words.

Killian Jones didn't sugar coat anything. Much like she hadn't with him.

Not quite as fun being on the receiving end, is it?

Karma was a bitch.

Killian was flipping through a book with little interest while he waited for his last class to be over. He actually tried to go today, to distract himself from what he had done, but Mrs. Lucas gave him a pointed look when she propped the door open. Sighing at her silent command, he turned right back around and headed off to independent study. Another day ended and probably irreversible damage done, Killian sought out the minions. He needed their help more than ever. He hadn't even thought about the deal when he exposed Emma's own faults. Now he couldn't tell if he was eager to patch things up because of it or because he felt guilty. Maybe both.

"Alright," Killian begrudgingly went to admit defeat to Mary Margaret and Victor. "I may need your help. Our trysts around school aren't really moving things along. I also think I may have pushed her buttons a bit too hard today."

"Really? Who would've guessed?" Mary Margaret retorted.

"Someone's still bitter about drooling all over her cardigan the other day."

"I swear, you are so—you make me so frustrated!" Killian raised a suggestive eyebrow and smirked.

"Well, I had my suspicions after our little near-kiss, but…"

"I didn't mean it that way. I wasn't talking about that!"

"Talking about what, sweetheart? I hope you're taking care to relieve yourself of your frustration."

"So," Victor stepped between the two before Mary Margaret exploded. She was reddening and her little figure went rigid, shaking with anger. "Fill us in on where you're at with Emma." Killian took a moment to find the words to summarize the dismally small progress they'd made then winced at how his little act of revenge might have diminished even that.

"He probably shot the whole operation down to hell in just the last few days," Mary Margaret sneered.

"I'll have you know that I nearly won that steeled heart of hers yesterday, but something spooked her. She yelled. Ran away," he said with forced stoicism.

"And today? You said you pushed her buttons."

"I may have tried to get a little even."

"I don't even want to know," Mary Margaret groaned.

"I do," Victor chimed, but there was something stopping Killian from telling even these two about what exactly transpired.

"Let's say that she'll definitely be thinking of me tonight."

"Here's what we'll do. I'll try to talk to David, see if I can get him to tell me anything."

"And what should I do?" Killian asked with less enthusiasm.

"You should try to lie low before—" Mary Margaret cut Victor off.

"Before you do any more damage than you already have!"

"I need to apologize to her," Killian mumbled. Like restraint, being remorseful wasn't his strong suit either. "But I doubt she'll let me get within ten feet of her."

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Mary Margaret massaged her temples.

"Then, I can get Ruby to do it for you, but next week, just duck out every time you see Emma."

"So I am to avoid the girl I'm supposed to date. I think you're a little backwards, mate. That's not typically how it works."

"Look, you guys, we all want the same thing here. Trust me, I've got a plan and it's going to work. Besides, whatever you did, we obviously need time to do some damage control."

"Fine." Killian tore out a sheet from Victor's binder.

"What're you doing?"

"Just something for you to give the sister."

Victor had just managed to catch Ruby before she left and later on the phone, they talked about stage one of his plan.

"What do you mean he didn't say why?... But, I wanna know now... Because, as twisted as her mind must be, I wouldn't mind knowing which buttons to press, too... Aw, you would do that for me?"

On the other end, Victor was already promising to pry the details of whatever Killian had said to Emma just to make Ruby happy. Dream all he wanted, that was something Killian wasn't sharing. He'd barely consented to giving up the little bit of their argument that Ruby was planning to use right now.

"...No, I got this... It's only two little words I have to drop and we went over it like five million times!... Duh, I'm forced to cohabit with her; I know just how to play it." Emma opened the front door. "Gotta go. Oh, and good luck on my assignment! Thanks again, Victor. I really don't know what I'd do without you." She definitely knew how to lay it on thick and the worst part was that she didn't even have to think about it. It was just natural to her now.

The blonde trudged up the stairs and tossed her keys on her desk, letting her backpack fall to the floor without a care.

Ruby padded down the hall and knocked on the door frame of Emma's room.

"Why do you bother if my door's already open?" Emma snapped. Ruby leaned against it and crossed her arms.

"Jeeze. Chill out. What's the matter with you?"

"I don't want to talk about it, but if you want to be a good sister, you'll run downstairs and grab the Ibuprofen for me."

"Eek. Cramps?"

"Massive headache."

"Fine—I'll get it. Lazy ass."

Emma scooted up against her headboard and let her head fall back, too heavy to bear anymore. So she made him a little mad when she yelled at him and, okay, she couldn't completely hold it against him, but he didn't have to be so tactless.

Guys and their egos. Wound their pride and their real colors show. What unnerved her most was that he had found the chink in her armor—actually, he found a lot more than one.

She let her eyes close, trying to will away her thoughts, her damn guilt, and the throbbing in her head.

"Ibuprofen for the diva." Ruby resumed her position. Feigning ignorance, she spoke with a bored tone, "Oh, by the way, someone told me to tell you they're sorry."

Her eyes widened as she stared dumbly at Ruby. 'Killian?'

Emma snorted both at her sister and the ridiculous thought. She already knew. It was David for leaving her to the wolves at lunch—well, wolf. Probably an unashamed one at that. Ruby was just a little snot that liked to irritate her in any way possible.

"That's specific." Emma entertained it though. "Did this 'someone' give a name?"

"Yeah, but doesn't make sense to me."

She flashed the little piece of paper at Emma. Ruby pretended to study the note, knowing full well that Emma was watching her every move.

"Did he now." Time to do what Ruby did best: manipulate.

"Honestly, I don't think they should apologize for whatever went down between you two. Correction: Whatever you did to them," she said meanly, purposely trying to ruffle Emma's feathers.

"Oh, shut up, Ruby. I already know it's David."

"You don't know that. Anyway, how the hell did you brainwash this idiot into saying sorry?"

"Give me the damn paper and go away."

"I mean, after all your bitch-antics you've pulled on everyone, not to mention the humiliation I've had to suffer because of it, you kind of deserve a reality check; not a freaking apology!"

"Here's a reality check. You're not dumb, Ruby, so why do you want all these guys to think you are? Oh yeah, that way they'll overlook the fact that your personality sucks."

"You want smart? You're a ghastly, vindictive prude. Smart enough for you?!"

"And you're just another conceited brat. Real enough for you?!"

"Seriously, this guy must be the only person in school delusional enough to think you're capable of human emotion."

"Give me the bottle. Give me the paper. Get out of my life."

"You need to get one first. So, what'd you do to him?"

"Whatever it is, it's none of your business."

"Really, I'm curious. It's not every day that Emma Swan gets an apology for being Emma Swan."

"If you don't back the hell off, I swear I'm going—"

"To what? 'Hurt me?'" Emma pressed her lips into a tight line while Ruby silently applauded herself. God, she was good. "That's what's funny about you, Emma. I know exactly why you always skip straight to the 'threats.' You're—"

Emma couldn't believe it. There was no way. It had to be Killian, and, on top of it, he blabbed about what happened earlier. How else would Ruby know all this?

"—you're an anti-social freak who's jealous because your little sister if more popular than you. God, you need to find other ways of getting attention."

False alarm, it was just typical Ruby logic; 'Ahh, you're ruining my life. You hate me because I'm pretty! Boo-hoo!'

"You're totally right," Emma smiled at her, "I'm jealous. So jealous that I'm going to make sure you never get to do anything. Ever. I'm perfectly fine staying home all day, every day. Hope you are, too, little sister!" That hit a sour note with Ruby and now her fun was over. Mission complete. She was done. Anymore of this and she'd be too tempted to attack Emma.

"Whatever, take your damn Ibuprofen," Ruby spat out and tossed both on the bed, "Freaking shrew."

"What the hell is this 'shrew' bullshit? Does Mrs. Lucas talk about me that much?!" Emma yelled out after her, but the door slammed shut in the middle of her question.

She let out a very long sigh and leaned forward to grab the bottle. Her fingers brushed along the folded paper. Emma was confident that it was David asking her to meet him at their spot, the café down from the bookstore, but seeing as Ruby was being extra annoying just now—she was going to have to call and cancel. Like she was going to let Ruby out on a Friday, even if just for an hour, after all that. No, she was going to make her suffer and the thought brought a cruel smile to her face.

She unfolded the paper and her smile dropped.

'I'm really sorry, Beautiful.

– worthless asshole'

As Ruby and Victor intended, Emma stared at the paper and heard Ruby's words echo over and over again; '…this guy must be the only person in school delusional enough to think you're capable of human emotion.'

For the rest of the weekend, Ruby walked smugly around Emma who had barely spoken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do plan on using events from the movie, I'm just working up to them, so stay tuned! Leave a review if you would be so kind


	5. Victor's Madness (Part One)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, I have two parts to this one. Why? I just think they belong together, but it was just too long for one chapter. Hope you like it; a little (a lot) of angst going on, but it's all leading up to next chapter which is… Well, you'll see ;D
> 
> Onward with the love story of 'Beautiful' and 'Worthless Asshole!' Romantic, isn't it?

Killian couldn't shake his fight with Emma no matter how hard he tried. Sometime after midnight, he had given up on sleep all together and busied himself around the house. He finally passed out from exhaustion on the battered armchair in their living room, but because the universe was just cruel to him, he was woken up and dragged out of the house only hours later.

That Saturday night was even worse than the one before. His uncle didn't come back home until three in the morning and when he did, everything was on—the TV, the stereo, the lights, and shockingly, the laptop was even open with what looked like homework, but that too had been abandoned because a seemingly sleeping Killian was sprawled out on the couch. Even with closed eyes, he knew he was being stared at.

"It's almost passed three," Killian smirked. "Does this mean I get to ground you?"

"Seriously, kid? You're going to be miserable Monday morning. Go to sleep already."

"I've tried," he grumbled bitterly.

"Well, wasting electricity won't help. Come on, turn everything off and go to bed." Killian didn't move. "Killian," he warned again, but still nothing. "Killian." Swearing under his breath, he grabbed a fist full of Killian's hair and jerked him upright, making him growl as he smacked the hand away.

"I hope you know that's considered a form of child abuse," he threatened, but this wasn't anything new. They always threw empty threats at each other; they called it bonding.

"Just wait. A few more months and I'll really be able to kick your ass. Consider it a 'Welcome to Adulthood' present," his uncle grinned joking—well, _half_ -jokingly.

"Yeah, we'll see about that," he said, flattening down his hair and muttering curses. "Sodding bastard." The man sighed wistfully.

"If only I had gotten you a few years earlier. Could've kicked that habit out of you so you wouldn't sound like a 'bloody' pansy all the time," he mocked. "Stop trying to be special. Just say _fuck_ and _damn_ like a normal teenager and leave it at that."

" _Fuck_ you," he replied dryly. He and his nephew grew up under a lot of the same circumstances and he couldn't help but see a little bit of himself in Killian. It reminded him of a time when he, too, acted out—which is why he completely understood all the smacks upside the head he got for it.

"I'm going to ignore that because I'm tired." The man sat down next to him and yawned. "Why are you running up the electricity bill?"

"I've been trapped in insomniac hell and the little bit of sleep I _did_ manage, you ruined."

"Stop whining. And, why? What's going on?" His uncle was being serious now, taking on his role as concerned guardian, and Killian didn't even hesitate to tell him—he may have been waiting for the man to get home so he could vent. Not that he'd ever admit it.

"I said some things that I probably shouldn't have…" He continued silently, _'And tried to break her down with them.'_

"So what? Thought you had that 'I don't care about anything' attitude going on."

"Same here," he mumbled with knitted eyebrows.

His uncle took a moment to figure out the best way to approach this. Sure, Killian had told him all about the trouble he shamelessly chose _not_ to stay out of, but this was different. This time, Killian wasn't trying to get a rise out of him.

He wasn't being cocky nor was he bragging. This obviously was unfamiliar territory for the both of them.

"What's this kid's deal?"

"What isn't?" Killian snorted, feeling the return of his resentment toward Emma—the girl who had resisted, rejected, insulted, threatened, _and_ called him out in only a few days. "I can't even describe to you just how ridiculous they are."

"Well, try." He ditched his usual nonchalance, too tired to keep it up anyway, and started ranting because anger was familiar. Anger made him feel less at fault. Anger meant that he wasn't the only one guilty. It was just easier all around.

"For starters, they're unbelievable stubborn—" The way Killian saw it was that if Emma hadn't been so stubborn, they wouldn't be in this mess. So, why should he feel sorry? "—and they're proud as hell." It's not like she was a saint either. "Not to mention incredibly deluded into thinking they know _everything_ about _everyone_. Then when someone challenges that or tells them—oh, I don't know—the _truth_ , they won't own up to it. They go on lying to themselves. It's pathetic."

And there it was; deflection, the relief he'd been searching for.

" _They_ started it. _They_ were wrong. Then _they_ ran away because _they_ couldn't face it. I must have been out of my mind to try apologizing for something _they_ did first. You know what? No. I'mglad I knocked them down some because they needed it and everyone else was too scared to do it."

"Then why do you feel bad?" his uncle asked simply.

That was what Killian was losing sleep over. He didn't get it. He'd done loads worse without batting an eye. Emma didn't even mean anything to him because it was all just a job. That was it and that was all. None of this should have stirred up anything in him, but there he was; worried about her feelings for some inexplicable reason other than compromising the job he had to do.

What was he doing? Why did it bother him so much that Emma thought he couldn't be trusted? Why did it matter if she thought he was a bad person? Because he was. He damn right reveled in it. Now all of a sudden, he needed her approval—like he didn't want her to look at him that way.

"Aw, poor Killy found out he has a conscience," his uncle laughed. "So, listen up. I like to think I'm an expert on teenage bullshit. I pulled a lot of it myself when I was your age and drove my own mother crazy—kind of like what you do to me! Karma's a bitch, ain't she?" Killian rolled his eyes, but let him continue uninterrupted. "However, I had a lot of stuff going on at the time. You still got a lot going on, too. I'm pretty sure this kid's no exception."

Emma did have a lot going on in that pretty blonde scowling head of hers. Jefferson had something to do with it, that much was clear, but it went deeper than that. He didn't know what it was—it wasn't his job to know—but he wanted to know all the same… Which, again, shouldn't be happening.

"Don't mistake me. It's no excuse to go around acting like an asshole, but it's something to consider," the man shrugged. "On another note, I know why you hate 'em so much."

"I don't _hate_ them. I just don't understand how someone can be that impossible all the time."

"Like hell you don't!" the man bellowed out and laughed. Killian narrowed his eyes at him, obviously missing the joke. "Face it, Killy—you're fighting with yourself."

"I am nowhere near—"

"Do you realize just how long I've had to put up with you? Let's see here. They're arrogant. Hard-headed. Short-tempered. _Runs away_ from their problems and I'd put my money on them probably stirring shit up all the time like you, too." Killian crossed his arms defiantly. It didn't matter how his uncle put it. He didn't want to see how similar he and Emma really were; for example, like he was right now, refusing to accept the truth being shoved in his face.

"They started it," Killian snapped.

"Didn't mean you had to finish it," the man countered.

He had to admit that he was angry at himself for doing that, too. There was a part of him that really didn't want to be that person—not with Emma—but he was, and proved himself to be, just as she said, another 'worthless asshole.'

Killian shook his head again, trying to shake off the regret creeping back in, and kept reminding himself that it didn't matter what Emma thought as long as he could drag her out so Victor/Jefferson could move in on her sister.

"It doesn't matter," Killian said. Even though he had wanted to take it all back as soon as he yelled at her. "I really couldn't care less." Right. Just like he didn't care about how upsetting it was to watch the fight leave her eyes.

" _Sure,_ " his uncle drew out then muttered something that sounded like, 'Why do I bother?' and stood up to shut everything down. _"_ That's why you're up at three in the morning sulking on the couch and waiting for me to get home."

"No." Busted—on both accounts.

"Uh huh, keep telling yourself that, Killian. I mean, might as well since you're already so good at lying to yourself." He paused dramatically and turned to Killian who was now glowering at him. "Hey! What do you know? Kind of like that friend of yours! Isn't that something?"

With his last words hanging in the air, he flicked the light switch off and left Killian alone to ruminate in the dark.

No.

 _Emma Swan_ was a cynical, impossible, and paranoid girl in desperate need of some intensive therapy. _Emma Swan_ was so despised that someone was willing to _pay_ to get her out of the picture. _Emma Swan_ hurt people without thinking twice. _Emma Swan_ was not a friend.

He was just about satisfied with his conclusions when his mind took a sharp turn in the opposite direction. Killian closed his eyes and remembered how mesmerizingly different Emma looked when she smiled. God, she just glowed when she wasn't trying to act intimidating. His face softened thinking about how it felt knowing that he was the one who made that happen, even if just for a little while. It made him feel—

No. He wasn't supposed to feel anything. Trying to coax her into going out a night or two was part of the job, but putting the pieces of Emma Swan back together wasn't… Then why did he keep trying to do it?

Sitting there in the dark, there were no distractions. There was nothing but the thoughts that plagued him since yesterday. He lay there for what felt like hours, just arguing with himself until he saw the room starting to light up again with the new day. He was drained and finally started to feel his eyes droop when he stopped fighting and relented to the truth—something he would probably just deny again tomorrow.

The truth was that he did feel something. He felt this spark that had been missing and now he didn't want to let it go. He couldn't stop paying attention to her even if he wanted. That was the thing; he didn't want to stop because he was insatiably curious. He couldn't even remember the last time he felt this awake and it was all thanks to her and that fire of hers.

However, she also managed to hurt him with it, too. That's why Emma was dangerous, but like a fool, no matter how dangerous and infuriating she was, her presence pulled him in. He wanted to be around her—he wanted to stay awake after just drifting around for so long—but there wouldn't be any chance of that unless she trusted him. He had to prove to her that he could be her friend.

Damn it. He hated it when that man was right.

Maybe he wasn't supposed to care about Emma, but maybe he was starting to and he didn't know how to stop it.

* * *

Emma didn't have much luck relaxing that weekend either. Unlike Killian, she did sleep, but no matter how much sleep she had gotten, she still felt run down. The cherry on top was a migraine that she now believed was sent straight from hell.

Between mumbling one-word answers and camping out in her room, the house was cold and unnaturally quiet. Her brooding even rubbed off on Ruby who had smugly enjoyed how spiritless her sister had become, but the thrill of shutting Emma down had lost its kick by Sunday and was replaced by an incurable boredom of being in such a lifeless house.

At dinner, Gold stopped eating and observed the two. On one side of him there was Emma, slumped down in her chair while she carelessly rolled her food around her plate. On the other was Ruby who was trying to spell out a word using her peas.

He tried to spur up a conversation, but all he received in return were sighs and grunts followed shortly by Ruby excusing herself and Emma leaving without a word back to her dungeon.

She drummed her fingers on the textbook she'd given up reading to mull over the Killian-problem again when someone knocked on her door. It was Gold and as usual he gave himself permission to come in.

"You've been unusually quiet." Emma didn't even acknowledge his presence and pretended to read. "To what do I owe my thanks?" Despite his provoking, she continued to ignore him. "If this is about your mother again—"

"Don't." Her eyes snapped up and finally took on some light. "Just don't." She meant it as a threat, but, however subtle it was, he caught the plea in her voice.

"Then what's upset you? Wisdom comes with age. That being said, I may be able to help you if you let me."

She watched him warily. Times like these, rare as they were, reminded Emma of the person this man used to be when her mother was alive. She sighed and sat up, exhausted and starting to lose her mind. She had no one to confide in. David wasn't an option because, as supportive as he was, his overprotectiveness would more than likely only make things messier. He'd make a bigger spectacle of the whole thing and she didn't need him charging after Killian trying to punch his face in.

So, Gold wasn't her first choice, but she didn't have anyone else and he was right here, ready to listen, and would definitely have no clue who she was talking about, so she just came out with it.

"Someone apologized to me on Friday."

"Yes, I can see why that's a problem," he replied without skipping a beat. She gave him a little acrid smile and was nearly ready to scrap the whole heart-to-heart thing and tell him to leave when he continued on and used a word that triggered her. "It's not unheard of, you know. A friend of yours, I take it?" _Friend._

"Yeah, no way in hell that'll ever happen," she snorted and tossed her book to the side, entering fight mode.

"And why is that?"

"They're egotistic and proud, that's why. It's sickening." Gold let his silence urge her on. "And, they walk around all high and mighty, but that's not even the worst part. What's worse is that everyone feeds into it which only makes this person think they're even more badass. Even if you get the chance to tell them the truth—which is almost impossible because they never stop running their goddamn mouth—they're too stubborn to listen."

"Hm. Why does this sound so familiar?" he muttered to himself. "And what is it they've done wrong again?" he asked. She was determined to paint a detailed picture of Killian so that Gold would fully understand everything she had to put up with. She didn't realize that it looked strikingly like her.

"What they did was throw a huge temper tantrum. They completely lost it, all because I called them out on their bullshit. You don't understand how frustrating they are. They get their way _all_ the time, but only because they're so disgustingly good at manipulating people. Ugh, I'm glad I gave them a reality check—it was about time someone did. Damn brat."

"Yet you're the one who's been moping," he countered.

She was moping. She couldn't shake this horrible feeling of guilt even though _he_ was the one who went all revenge-happy. Then again, that wouldn't have happened if she hadn't started it. She went and took everything to the next level when she yelled at him like that and what sucked most was that he actually fought back and gave her a taste of her own medicine. She wasn't used to that and it was starting to make her sick.

"The power of a guilty conscience is enough to bring down the also 'proud,' 'stubborn,' and 'high and mighty' Emma Swan. Who knew?"

"Don't twist my words, Gold—and, no. I don't feel guilty." Lie. "I just think it's extremely pathetic how they're going to think everything's okay tomorrow." She was sure it was just another one of his strategies and he'd prove that tomorrow when he'd try to harass her again; she was sure of it. "What, because they gave some half-assed apology, I'm supposed to welcome them back with open arms?"

"Hm, I didn't know my daughter was a seer," Gold said, raising his eyebrows. "Perhaps that's how you always find the worse possible days to start an argument with me."

"I can also choose to start one right now, if you'd like," she said.

"There we go—that's the warmth this house has been missing." Emma rolled her eyes and started playing with a loose thread on her sleeve. "The point is, Emma. You _don't_ know the future and you _don't_ know everything, yet to some mystery, you're confident you do. They may end up proving you wrong and I think you're afraid of that."

"People don't change."

"You know, it amazes me how you claim to be a Swan, but dismiss everything she believed in."

With that, a new sort of guilt piled onto her shoulders. Just what she needed; more weight to drag her down. Emma clenched her jaw and refused to meet his eyes, still drinking in every word about her mother even if it was meant to smack her down. He leaned against her desk and sighed.

"Not that it's any real surprise to you, but I was never a good person. Your mother came along and saw something else in me," his voice grew softer at his cherished memories of his late wife, "and I let her bring that out."

"What's your point, Gold?"

"Just because _you_ refuse to change doesn't mean it's impossible."

Emma loved her mother—there wasn't a day that went by when she didn't miss her. However, Gold was right about her being a mockery to her mother's name and she hated him for it. She couldn't take that risk of admitting she wrong—both to him and herself—because then she'd have to admit that maybe she was wrong about other things—like Killian—and she was always right. She had to be.

So instead of acknowledging it, she ran and hid behind her bitterness and anger because that was familiar to her. It was safe.

"And look at you now," she spat and finally met him with a glare. "She's dead and you're back to being an asshole." All the sentimentality in his face disappeared—they were back to playing _that_ game.

"I doubt you're an innocent victim in all this," he said with a sting in his voice, his words setting out to cut like razors. "To put it simply, dearie, you made a mistake. They made a mistake, but the difference is that they're fixing it and you're trying to keep it broken, as always."

"Some things aren't worth fixing," she shot back at him.

"Funny how the things worth fixing are usually the ones everybody's so unwilling to mend."

He rose and walked toward the door. He knew there was no use trying to reach her now; she wouldn't listen or allow herself to listen. Still, before shutting the door, he looked back at Emma, sitting alone in the middle of her room—posters covering every inch of it, boxing her in safely from everyone outside.

"Just one last pearl of wisdom which you'll surely throw away once I leave. You wouldn't feel guilty if you didn't think you were wrong. Interesting, isn't it?" he scoffed. "Considering that Emma Swan can never be wrong about anything. She knows everything and fears nothing, after all." She opened her mouth to protest, but he dismissively threw her back a goodnight and shut the door.

No.

 _Killian Jones_ was a selfish, conniving, and dishonest person who refused to play by anyone's rules but his own because _he_ was scared of losing. _Killian Jones_ was so detested that Mrs. Mills was willing to pardon every one of his misdeeds just to get him out of there. _Killian Jones_ used people without thinking twice. _Killian Jones_ was exactly who she thought he was.

Then that second, always nagging, voice in her head attacked her argument. If she was right and knew everything about him and what to expect, then how is it that he was able to surprise her like that? Worse, he allowed her to see another side of him; one that he obviously didn't advertise and reveal to just anyone. He had taken a chance and shared pieces of himself... He made her feel safe enough to do the same. He showed her that there was more to him than what he wanted everyone to see.

The guilt made her head ache again, but she fought it off until she just couldn't anymore, until she had tossed and turned for hours and given in to her own self-pity. Why did she do that to him? God, what was wrong with her? She had turned around and yelled at him for something he didn't even do—

 _'Yet. He would eventually.'_ That's right, yeah, Killian wasn't any different and it was only a matter of time before he proved her right about that, too. He would try to hurt her in some way. To use her and she wasn't going to let that happen.

As much as she kept telling herself that, her intuition was screaming otherwise. What if he really wasn't that bad? That day, all he did was try to make her smile—promising to find more ways of making her smile if she gave him the chance. He wasn't lying; he hadn't been lying about that at all, but he was _supposed_ to be dishonest. He was _supposed_ to be trying to manipulate her.

The possibility that she was wrong and that he could be genuinely sorry terrified her.

She couldn't admit that out loud. It would change things. Following the pattern of change in her life, it would more than likely just make things worse. She had to stay strong and not give in to the regret making her nauseous about going back tomorrow and possibly facing him.

What was she supposed to do? Risk it? Don't risk it? She kept asking herself and she didn't know. She didn't know what to do and she always knew what to do. It was always so simple. Fight or leave… and she didn't know if she wanted to do either of those things.

Only a few hours before she had to get up and make her decision, she let herself hope that the choice would be clear. She was too tired to fight off the small truth crawling and clawing its way from under her fears.

Ever since he'd shown up, things had become so much more complicated. It was, again, so simple before—miserable, yes, but the same nonetheless. Predictability was good and Killian was changing things though. He couldn't be able to do that if he was only what she thought he was. He'd have to be different…

Maybe she was wrong about Killian and, as much as it scared the hell out of her, it was possible that there was a small part of her that wanted to be.

* * *

Monday was Mary Margaret's favorite day. It was a day when nothing ever happened. She got a break from having to put up with the tricks and pranks from her classmates, but happily that wasn't an issue anymore thanks to her agreement with Jefferson.

On Mondays, everyone was on autopilot; too tired to say or do much of anything which meant she didn't have to listen to all the clueless answers and obnoxious interruptions in class—a mutual pet peeve that she and Emma shared. The difference, however, was that she didn't go around punching and shouting at people. Her meekness was slowly burning away with each passing day and funny enough, it was all Killian's doing.

Granted he had an undefeated record of getting the last word during their squabbles, Mary Margaret was actually fighting back for a change.

Who she was, what she stood for, and even what she wanted—and _didn't_ want—was so much clearer because Killian was unknowingly challenging her to figure it all out and defend it. In those four years, she relied on the feedback from others because she didn't know who she was without it. Now, she was learning about and deciding for herself, and acting bolder because.

For as much transformation and growth as she was doing, it was a pity that she couldn't see it. She couldn't see that her insecurities were melting away and that she was on her way to becoming living proof that a person could still be compassionate and kindhearted without being a doormat. Soon enough, she wouldn't be that girl David _had_ to save; she would be able to rely on and trust in herself.

All that would come in good time though. Right now, she was just waiting for the day to start while she talked to Victor, but he wasn't listening to her anymore. His eyes were fixed on someone approaching them. She was just about to look over her shoulder, but he grabbed her arm and looked her straight in the eye.

"Mary Margaret," he said calmly.

"Yes..?"

"Try not to have a panic attack again."

"Oh god, he's walking up behind me, isn't he?" Yes, David was walking over, along with Emma who didn't look quite as intimidating as she normally did. Probably because she was running on less than four hours of sleep after a weekend of non-stop thinking, self-inflicted guilt-trips, and to top it off, a lecture from Gold.

"It's now or never. I don't know how many dead dogs a girl can have before looking like a closet serial killer," he said.

"Right, right. You're right," she kept repeating, breathing in slowly to calm herself down. While the boys exchanged greetings, Emma stayed quiet and unsociable as usual—this time a bit more preoccupied with her thoughts.

Victor stared at Mary Margaret with pleading eyes to not to blow it this time while David consciously held back his urge to talk to her and instead gave her some space to approach him if _she_ wanted.

Whatever she was mad at him for, aggressively trying to make it right just wasn't going to work. It would only drive her away like it had last week, so he sent her a nice polite smile and left it at that.

She opened her mouth to greet him, but she choked on whatever remained of her low self-esteem. It was happening again. The panic was setting in and she could feel herself shutting down. This was it. This was the end. There was no more help, chance, or hope for her. She failed and it was her own fault.

Why was this so hard for her? Why did she keep screwing up?

Right as she was about to give up, a sleepy looking Killian strolled down the hall and the second they noticed each other, he smirked and sent a wink her way. She could already hear him saying something completely out of line with that smug smile.

He was just so intent on riling her up every chance he got. He was sick and twisted and—so not like David.

She let out the breath she'd been holding, her eyes still on Killian, and felt a wash of relief at the thought. Thank god David was absolutely nothing like him. David was cordial, kind, and respectful. David was clever and funny, but didn't use it to get under her skin. David Nolan was everything she had always wished for and Killian Jones was everything she wished would disappear.

David was who she wanted. David was who she had hoped for. She knew all of this already, but Killian had just reminded her why she got into this mess to begin with; so she could have a fighting chance with David.

That meant she actually had to fight and, really, talking was easy; it should be easy because David was trustworthy—not some scoundrel like Killian Jones. If she could waste her time and words on Killian then there was no reason why she should shrink away from talking to someone so very much worth it.

She couldn't expect anything to change when she refused to do anything and immediately after Killian's wink, she looked at David, still feeling a few butterflies fluttering around in her stomach, and rewired her brain to smile instead of running away.

"Hi, David," she smiled sweetly. It was genuine and he felt it—the light in his eyes gave her that boost of confidence she needed. She did that. He was smiling right now because of her and that was proof in itself that she could do this if she kept trying.

"Hey!" He was absolutely elated and felt like he could fly now that the weight on his chest had been removed. "How was your weekend?" Taking her attitude toward him as a good sign, he shifted toward the group a little more.

"It was—" But before Mary Margaret could finish, David turned his attention to Emma who had noticeably tensed up out of the corner of his eye.

Emma really wished he hadn't moved. She really wished she could just hide behind David and un-see _him_ heading in their direction. As soon as Killian spotted her, too, his posture went rigid and he slowed his pace, considering his options.

Crap, what were his options? With Emma's guard dog next to her and Mary Margaret's murderous glances, going up that way didn't seem like a smart idea. Then he looked over at Victor and stopped.

That's right. Victor's _plan_. _'Just duck out every time you see Emma.'_

That was perfectly fine by him. Hell, it was more than fine. Killian spun around and walked right back up the hall. He had 'ducked out' as asked, but it was so obvious though—so painfullyobvious. Mary Margaret and Victor tried their best to appear as calm and ignorant as possible as Emma stared at Killian's back as he retreated away… from her.

She had a vague idea of what would happen when she and Killian eventually crossed paths, but him avoiding _her_ was definitely not something she considered as a possibility. He was irritatingly persistent, she knew that for sure, so why didn't he try something? What happened to that overconfidence of his?

He was supposed to use his apology as an in, a door back into her life, but he didn't. This wasn't right. Maybe he was just toying with her.

David steered Emma away just moments later after they all said their goodbyes—still a little disappointed that the bell broke what little bit of conversation he and Mary Margaret had started though.

"What haven't you told me?" David asked.

"Can we not do this right now?" Emma let out a deep sigh and walked on ahead of him.

"Emma!"

That was how most of the period went; David repeating her name, trying to get her to crack.

"Emma."

Gold already made her feel conflicted and her brain had been muddled with enough. Also, there was the whole 'David making a bigger issue out of the situation' thing.

"Emma, come on."

"It's nothing really."

"Did you hit him?"

"Seriously, David?"

"I don't know! That's why I'm asking. He did run away from you."

"We don't know if it was _me_ ," she said defensively.

"Oh, yeah. He only saw you and stopped like—"

"Can we drop it?!"

"After you tell me what happened," he stubbornly pressed. He wasn't going to stop unless she gave him something, so she gave him the bare minimum.

"We talked." She shrugged like it was no big deal. Like it hadn't tortured her all weekend long.

"About?"

"It doesn't matter and basically, I said something… He said something… He apologized. The end."

"Then why did he leave like that?"

"I don't know," Emma sighed again.

"What do you think he's playing at?"

"I don't know," Emma said, her frustration starting to rise.

"Is it just another trick to mess with you?"

"I don't know." Her patience was wearing really thin now.

"Do you think he's finally given up?" There was something about that question that set her off.

"I don't know, David!" Emma snapped and closed her eyes in regret. Just because she was miserable didn't mean she had to make him miserable, too. Self-control—she was good at denying herself things, but her temper wasn't one of them. Evening her tone, she tried to put an end to their conversation and an end to the questions she'd already been asking herself. "Let's just finish this assignment, okay?"

For a while, they wrote in silence, but every now and then, David would pause and try to get her to look at him. Emma blocked him out though—she blocked out everything—and was nearly blissfully lost in her work.

Then David stopped writing again. Only this time, he started it up again.

"You know, I saw him talking to Victor last week."

"What happened to dropping it?" she grumbled.

"I don't think they're friends, but—"

"Drop it." She didn't want to think about Killian anymore and the thought of her having hung out around Killian's potential friends made her sick. What if they knew?

"You never know. He might have some idea if we ask him about it."

"Don't you dare." She didn't want to know. She didn't want to know if they or other people knew about her. She didn't want that kind of attention. She didn't want to be looked at that way—approachable and possibly reachable by the world outside her walls.

"We'll do it subtly! I promise no one will even know we're curious."

"You mean _you're_ curious."

Before he could continue, she decided to change the topic to something that was sure to make David forget all about her and Killian.

"So, Mary Margaret was talkative today; and by talkative I mean not acting like you didn't exist or throwing things at you."

"I know it's not a big gesture, but it's something," he said trying to play off the excitement bubbling inside him, but she saw through it.

She always saw through people—with the exception of Killian who covered everything so well. Damn it. He was back in her head again and her thoughts started to whoosh around. Never coming to a conclusion, just circling and circling.

"I told you she was sweet," David smiled, saving her from getting sucked into it.

"David… She said, 'hi.'"

"Yeah— _sweetly._ " Emma couldn't tell if he was joking or not. Probably because David didn't know if he was either.

* * *

Killian hated his Monday; it was rough, but it beat sitting at home with his thoughts again. Emma was just a never-ending headache.

He was used to being berated by teachers, but it was usually for something he was pleased with himself about. There was nothing to be proud about today though. He felt a little disgusted with himself for purposely sneaking around and sometimes even waiting until the halls were clear so that there was no chance of running into Emma again—and to think he called _her_ pathetic. Ugh.

By the end of the day, he wondered why he even bothered to stay since most of it was spent in Mrs. Mill's office for being 'disruptive to the learning environment.'

At first, it was kind of entertaining. She let him flip through his file while she typed away and barked orders at her secretary. Killian proudly noted how hefty his file was and smirked at some of the write-ups and comments from all his past teachers and schools. Ah, the memories.

Still, by his third trip, he'd run out of things to do and slumped bored in his chair, helping Mrs. Mills with the phrasing in what was, as he had learned from Emma, her 'romantic' novel.

Once Regina exhausted all his creativity, she grew bored and dismissed him early. He went straight to the back building and waited to regroup with his not-so-sweetheart, Mary Margaret, and Victor, but of course, without Regina making him reread questionable segments of her novel, his mind had nothing else to focus on and returned to his Emma problem.

He didn't know where they stood or if she was still angry with him. Reluctantly he admitted to himself that he was holding onto the possibility of her acting like nothing happened, but who was he kidding? He didn't understand Victor's logic just yet, but despite how much a part of him screamed to go after her and make sure she wouldn't take that spark away from him forever—staying away from Emma was probably the wisest decision. Anyway, what he even say if he did go after her? No matter what he wanted to do, he couldn't and didn't know how to face her right now. Luckily that was exactly what Victor was asking of him.

It was the perfect excuse for him to keep acting like a coward.

"Well, that was subtle. Not obvious at all," Mary Margaret said sarcastically as soon as he was within earshot. "You're supposed to just give her some space. You're supposed to be _invisible_ and _blend in_ —not practically announce that you're avoiding her!"

He'd already heard it all from himself and didn't need to hear it again—especially from Mary Margaret. Killian was tired and very short on patience and the last thing he needed was to lose it on another girl.

The mistake he made with Emma was worse though—because it was with _Emma_ and she wasn't just another girl. She shouldn't be any different though.

"Lay off, I was half asleep," Killian said.

"Didn't stop you from trying to wind me up this morning, did it?" she narrowed her eyes and hissed.

"All roused over one wink. I must be getting more tempting every day," he teased with a little less enthusiasm than usual.

"You are repulsively narcissistic, you know that right?"

"It just wouldn't work out, darling. Feel free to look all you want though."

"Guys, come on. Time to focus," Victor said, putting an end to their bickering. "Forget about today, it doesn't matter and don't worry about tomorrow. It definitely won't happen again because Mary Margaret's going to get us Emma's schedule."

"And just how am I supposed to do that?" she asked.

"Duh, you help out in the office, right? Just make something up," Victor said. "Tell Belle that Mills wants it or something." With the mountain of odd requests Belle received from Principal Mills, this would definitely escape everyone's attention.

"Actually, yeah, that'll work," she smiled approvingly at Victor. "It's just what we need. That way, there's no chance this idiot will ruin things."

"Always so cruel to me," Killian sighed.

"Cruel? I'll show you cruel," she crossed her arms and grumbled.

"You see?" Killian whispered to Victor, making sure it was just loud enough for her to hear. "Told you she was into that kind of thing." Victor did his best to suppress the laugh rising up in his throat—oh, come on! He was a boy and it was a good joke. Mary Margaret stared, mouth open in outrage. Mary Margaret frantically searched for a way to verbalize her hatred for him, but she'd lost again. Killian got the last word.

"I'll make a map tonight," Victor said as evenly as he could and turned away to conceal his smile from the red-faced girl.

She was still trying to formulate something witty or cutting to say, but she was seething and couldn't think of anything. So, she settled for trying to make him feel the heat of her hatred with her glare. Killian brushed it off like nothing though.

"Meet in the morning then," Victor instructed. "And Killian, you _have_ to stay on route so we won't have a repeat of this morning."

"Yeah… This morning," Killian stopped, giving himself the option to back out of it, but he wanted to ask it. His want to know outweighed his concern about how he would sound—Emma just kept on changing things, didn't she? "When you were all talking this morning, did… I mean," he shoved his hands in his pockets, frustrated and mentally cursing at himself for just, well, caring at all. "You know, was there anything? Did anyone or she—"

Victor frowned and shook his head to save Killian the trouble of having to continue, especially with Mary Margaret scrutinizing Killian curiously next to him.

She was confused about how different he looked right now. He didn't have that cocky half-smile and wasn't as animated like when he was running his mouth and being a smartass. It seemed unnatural to her.

"Right," he smirked and shook his head at the ridiculous question. He knew Emma wasn't the type to share, so why did he even think— _hope_ —that she'd have said something to them?

He left Victor and Mary Margaret and as he walked to his car, he forced everything he'd been feeling and thinking down and buried it with a layer of apathy which he'd hold up as best he could for the rest of the night. Until he couldn't sleep again and only admitted the scary truth right before his mind shut down for the few hours he'd actually get to sleep. In the morning though, he'd deny it again and force himself not to care again. It was a quick fix, but it was better than nothing.

"Victor, what just happened?" Mary Margaret was present when Killian wrote the apology on Friday. She even remembered him saying he _had_ to say sorry, but she didn't read too much into it. It was just a means to an end—just for show. Right? Because he didn't want to ruin their deal.

"That, my friend," Victor gave her a sly smile, "is phase one of the _plan_."

It just wasn't clicking. It was beyond her grasp. That look Killian made when he asked about Emma didn't look like just plain curiosity. It was laced with something else, but what was it? Nervousness?

' _Killian Jones nervous? No way,'_ she laughed inwardly.

How could a guy like Killian Jones get nervous over anything? After all, let's not forget that he got into a high speed car chase simply because he was bored one day. No, really, it was true—a guy in her math class swore he saw the whole thing. He even saw Killian Jones pass by right next to him with a fleet of cop cars and a helicopter tailing him.

Mary Margaret reminded herself again that _Killian Jones_ was nothing but trouble. It was no wonder he kept botching up the Emma Swan mission.

* * *

On Tuesday, it was time for phase two of Victor's plan. He waited for Killian, map in hand, and talked him through it. "Just follow the red, okay?"

During lunch, Emma walked outside to find David when she heard footsteps running up behind her. She rolled her eyes and shouted over her shoulder.

"I knew it was only a matter of time before—"

"Ruby," the high-pitched voice rang. Emma whipped around in confusion and saw her sister stop next to the girl. "Why is your sister talking to herself?" It was Ruby. Not Killian. Ruby was catching up to her friend. Not Killian trying to catch up to annoy her.

"She's a mutant. Just ignore her. That's what I do," the red-lipped girl shrugged and tossed back her wild hair. The girls left and Emma took a look around her. No Killian.

David called to her so she turned back around and started walking again, but after a few seconds, she took one last look over her shoulder and still nothing. She swore she could feel him around there somewhere.

She sighed and recalled Gold's words. He was right. A guilty conscience really was powerful.

However, so was Emma's intuition because up on the second floor, Mary Margaret, Victor, and Killian reconvened. While Victor prattled on about having to make some changes on the map for tomorrow, Killian tuned him out and stared down below.

"Hey," Victor waved a hand in front of Killian's face to finally get his attention. "Did you catch any of that?"

"Nope," he answered bluntly. "Wasn't listening."

Mary Margaret rolled her eyes at his rudeness, but Victor couldn't have been happier because he noticed the blonde-haired girl in a familiar red jacket move across the lawn, too.

What a coincidence that Victor should ask Killian to meet them at a spot overlooking the place David had said he was going to meet Emma at. Guess it just must've slipped Victor's mind.

* * *

On Wednesday, Victor gave Killian a new map.

"Just follow the blue," he said. "Stick to the plan. Remember, every time you see Emma—"

"Got that, already," Killian said and snatched it from Victor. He had agreed to try it Victor's way. Anyway, he felt even worse and more drained than yesterday to even care or question it.

Killian went along with the new path through the halls and everything was fine. First period went with no sight of Emma. After second period, he followed the little blue arrows on a roundabout way to his next class.

When he looked up from Victor's crudely drawn map, his eyes immediately locked on to the bright red jacket refusing to blend in with the crowd surrounding it. He didn't even need to look up and it was better that he didn't because Emma was staring directly at him, willing him to look up at her. Instead, she just watched him bolt right back up the hall.

Third period was the same, except his eyes were quick to spot her this time and he whipped around the corner so fast he was sure she couldn't have seen him. She did though and slammed her locker shut, now a little irritated at him treating her like she was the goddamn plague.

Fortunately, everything was smooth sailing from then on, but that little blunder earlier—well, he could already hear Mary Margaret's nagging in his head as he walked up.

"And here I thought any idiot could read a schedule," Killian said, cranky and irritated at Victor's incompetence.

"Oh, no… Don't tell me I messed up." Victor cursed and grabbed the map, trying to see where he went wrong. Mary Margaret kept quiet and followed her gut feeling. She studied Victor as he examined the map.

"That right there," Killian hissed, "is where her locker is."

He decided it was best just to omit that little incident earlier and chalk it up as a learning experience instead of letting the cardigan-girl with the pixie hair blow it up out of proportion just so she had something to yell at him about. He was just teasing her before, but now he was really considering that there had to be some part in her that liked him more than she should. It would explain why she was so intent on trying to make him miserable.

Unlike Emma who just flat out did it from the start without even giving herself the chance to fall for his charm… and yet he still didn't want to give up on her. What was wrong with him? Every time he realized it, he just wanted to smack himself for being so out of his mind.

Right now though, he wanted to smack Victor for being such an imbecile; an imbecile in charge of his every move at that. Again, what the hell was he doing?

"Ugh, I messed up. Man, I'm sorry, I didn't know. Listen, I have to make a new one for tomorrow anyway. David's not coming to school and I doubt she'll walk around without him." That was a lie. David was definitely going to be there and better yet, he and Mary Margaret were going to be able to lightly talk again.

She was proud to say that yesterday, she put herself out there and talked to him—even if she couldn't look him in the eye while she did it yet.

* * *

On Thursday, Killian looked at the new green marks skeptically and sure enough, he ran into Emma at the end of _every single_ class.

Worse, he literally ran into her, but this time, he didn't know what to do. This was purely accidental; not some ploy to get her attention like last time. There was no, _'Sorry, love,'_ or dangling her books in front of her while he flirted. Right now, she had on her best poker face and he sported his usual indifference.

If only they could hear each other's thoughts. They'd realize that they were both freaking out internally, every alarm bell going off in their heads. Both of them were torn between wanting to get the hell out of there and hoping the other would say something. Anything to break the tension or hint at what was going on; what they were supposed to do now because they had no clue.

Were they supposed to forgive each other? If they did, would it change things? For the better? What if they were supposed to ignore each other now? …Why did each of them dread that one in particular?

Emma glanced down to the strap of his bag being strangled to death in his grip. Other than that, his face told her nothing about what was happening inside his head.

He was so good at that and it drove her crazy. Killian, on the other hand, could see it all even with her best effort to hide it. She could be as straight-faced as she wanted—and she was definitely good at that and controlling her body language—but she just couldn't shield those eyes of hers—they told him everything.

He could see her nervousness and panic like she didn't know what to do; fight or flight? Most of it was pure irritation though. It burned to look at her and even made him uncomfortable—made _Killian Jones_ nervous and, as Mary Margaret and everyone else knew, that didn't happen.

Maybe it was his way of distracting himself from how piercingly green they were, but he spot all the flecks of gold and blue in them, too. God, he forgot how clear they were and how bright they shined—especially when she was angry. Strangely enough, it felt good to see them like that—it replaced the dead-spirited and dull ones from Friday. He could breathe again knowing he extinguish her for good.

He must've let something slip through his own mask because he saw a spark of surprise—and maybe even hope—as a little warmth spread over that cold look of hers. She even went as far as being the first to break the ice.

"…Hi," she ventured. It didn't seem like much at all—you could even call it awkward or detached, but in Emma's own little language, it was more than encouraging and Killian seemed to be fluent in it. She didn't have to and it was out of character for her to do it, but she had just opened up that channel of communication for him.

"Hey," he replied quietly. Killian wanted to grasp onto that olive branch so much and to say something more. He wanted to say the right thing, whatever it may be, but he couldn't figure it out.

' _Just duck out every time you see Emma,'_ Victor's voice echoed for the millionth time.

Killian didn't want to, so he racked his brain for the right words. He came up empty, but what else could he expect when he refused to let himself think about her for too long? And, he didn't mean him replaying the same scenarios or debating and trying to fight the truth for hours on end, but the hard stuff; like letting everything just flow and accepting it all gracefully.

Should've, could've, would've. It didn't matter now because the moment was wasted. He stuck to the plan and sidestepped Emma. At least Killian made a little progress there. He began to understand what his uncle had meant by them being similar. However, he concluded that Emma was a much stronger person. With all her issues, she bravely took the first step while he backed away because he didn't want to have to make that difficult decision of returning it or not.

In time, Killian would realize that his own stubborn pride and fear of putting himself on the line was keeping him from seeing the very clear and obvious solution to all of this. As of right now though, he kept on walking away from her until he heard The Idiot's voice calling to Emma, loud and arrogant as usual.

"Emma!"

"Go. Away. Jefferson." He was showing up at the wrong time. She was confused, embarrassed, guilty, and angry; especially at herself for trying to be… Well, just _trying_ actually. It made her feel vulnerable and she kept reprimanding herself for looking like a fool.

Jefferson was showing up at the wrong time because Emma was retreating back into being _Emma Swan_.

What better way to complete the transformation and make her feel in control again than showing everyone and herself just what she was capable of?

"And if I don't?" he challenged, daring her to turn around and look at him. "It seems like someone's kind of—"

Emma twisted around and rammed her fist so hard into his stomach that she completely knocked the wind out of him and just to be even more merciless, she shoved him hard and watched as he bounced off the lockers then finally landing hard on the tile.

"Bitch," Jefferson coughed out. The hall erupted with gasps and jeering. She heard her name whispered all around her in different pitches and attitudes. Satisfied with herself, she started to leave, but stopped when she caught sight of a lone figure in the distance, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and smiling to himself.

He had just brushed her off, but apparently Killian still thought she was amusing.

She pushed that little bit of hope that sprung up then away. She shouldn't be feeling anything but contempt for him.

* * *

On Friday at lunch, David decided that they shouldn't get tied down to one spot. That they should change it up and try exploring the school a little—even though they were seniors and knew every room and corridor.

Emma easily translated that to: 'Let's cover every square inch of this building until we 'accidentally' run into Mary Margaret,' but they didn't have much luck yet.

"So, I heard you attacked Jefferson when we got out of school yesterday. Tsk tsk," David smiled proudly.

"Not true," she said with a straight face, but after a beat, she smirked proudly, too. "We were still on campus, so it wasn't exactly 'out' of school."

"If I have a daughter someday, her Auntie Emma better teach her everything she knows."

"You really think the daughter of Mary Margaret would have that kind of fight in her genes?" A pink flush started to creep onto his face. "Oh come on! I'm just teasing," she laughed. "I don't know why you bother trying to play it cool with me."

"I…" he began neutrally, his face a full-on shade of red now. "I think she's a good person—"

"'Mary Margaret is the sweetest person I've ever met. More people should be like her,'" she mimicked in her version of his voice.

"—and unique—" He jabbed at her side in retaliation.

"'There's just something so special about her. She's just so special. Did I mention she's special?'" she mimicked again, refusing to submit to the tickle fit.

"—and very intelligent."

"And cute," she said plainly in her normal, straightforward voice. He stopped his poking and nodded.

"Doesn't hurt," he grinned.

"You like her. Come on, just say it out loud and stop being so proud!"

"I'm not being proud! I'm just—if I say it then I can't take it back and last week she didn't even like me." Emma faced him and looked at him seriously.

"She's going to see how great a guy you are, David. I promise you. If anyone deserves one of those storybook happy endings come to life, it's you."

"Emma…" he pouted and held his arms out for a hug. She scrunched up her face like she didn't want to, but stepped into it anyway.

"So, in your wedding vows, are you guys going to talk about the first time you said 'hi' to each other?"

"You're horrible."

"I know," she sang with a wide grin.

"And, no. Because _I_ didn't say 'hi.' I said 'hey,'" he joked. She flashed back to yesterday. It was so small. Barely even a proper greeting with him—with Killian. "And I know what you're thinking and the answer is yes. I _do_ in fact consider her 'hi,' as a good sign." David's enthusiasm with Mary Margaret's long-awaited greeting kind of started to make sense. She wasn't sure if she wanted it to make sense because that would mean…

"It is a good sign…" she agreed absentmindedly, definitely not thinking about David and Mary Margaret anymore. But why was it a good sign? It shouldn't be a good sign. It should be a bad sign because _she_ initiated a conversation with someone she's not supposed to want around. Why did she talk to someone who she was supposed to want out of her life? She said she wanted him to go away. She remembered feeling that way and being so adamant about it.

It was like Sunday night all over again. Only this time, she couldn't blame her thoughts on being half-asleep.

"Hey, guys!" Victor's voice broke Emma out of her Killian-lapse.

David swiveled around, his blush having calmed down to something natural and you couldn't even tell that he'd just turned bright red over the girl now standing in front of him.

David greeted Mary Margaret, testing out the waters, and this time, she smiled back effortlessly without any coaching or silent praying from Victor. She smiled a lot after that actually. She smiled from laughing, she gave polite smiles, sometimes nervous ones—and David noted how her short hair framed them perfectly.

He was gone—hopelessly in love, but at least he'd admired Mary Margaret for a while now. Victor fell for Ruby before he even knew her name, but, as Killian had once said, love works in mysterious ways. Especially when you're a hormonal teenager apparently.

Victor helped their conversation along, giving Mary Margaret as many opportunities to chime in and talk as he could. Fortunately, Mary Margaret did, still wringing her hands behind her back to hide her nervousness, but it was a little better—short but better. She was determined now and kept pushing herself more and more each day. Emma wasn't as invested in their idle chit chat and excused herself to go to the bathroom.

Victor nearly groaned in disappointment because right about now Killian was supposed to…

With another wink and a scandalous once over at Mary Margaret, head to toes—unnoticed again by anyone but her—Killian drifted by and out of sight. David followed her narrowed eyes and caught a glimpse of Killian before he disappeared.

When Emma came back, she took in David's hardened face and the murderous glint in Mary Margaret's eyes. Maybe the girl had a little pluck in her after all.

"You know that guy?" David asked smoothly, earning him a similar icy stare from Emma. Apparently she missed something in those two minutes, but knowing David and that conversation they had about _not_ bringing up Killian—

"Who? Killian?" Emma's heart skipped a beat and she looked away to hide the panic on her face. "Oh yeah, he's cool," Victor shrugged casually, but Mary Margaret couldn't help herself.

"Ha! More like a pain—" Victor laughed, wrapped his arm around her, and shook her a little harder than necessary.

"She's joking," he remedied. "We're all good friends. Those two are always teasing each other."

"Really?" The obvious shock in David's voice faded and was replaced with a slight hint of jealousy—the same hint that made Emma's eyes even greener.

That wasn't supposed to happen though. She wasn't supposed to feel anything but embarrassment right now because surely David was going to—

"How'd you all become friends?"

' _Damnit, David! Let it go!'_ she silently yelled.

For once, Victor wasn't prepared. Couldn't exactly say, 'Oh, we all teamed up so Ruby and I could date.'

"He was a friend of Victor's first," Mary Margaret stepped in. "And, I couldn't shake him once he started asking for _girl advice_." Victor silently applauded Mary Margaret while Emma held her breath, trying to slow her racing heart. It was like it was trying to push itself to see just how fast it could beat before giving out.

"Anyone we might know?" David asked.

It was working at full capacity now and Emma would've glared at him if she wasn't afraid they'd all look at her and see the reaction she just couldn't hide right now. She was seething and it had to be obvious that she was one Killian had been asking for 'girl advice' about. They were all 'friends' after all. Killian had to have said something to them.

"Nah, says she goes to another school," Victor added. And, Emma's heart seemed to stop beating all together.

David certainly wasn't expecting that; Mary Margaret gawked at Victor—either he was losing his mind or going rogue; and Emma didn't know what she was feeling. Whatever it was, it didn't feel good and she definitely shouldn't be feeling it.

"He won't even tell us her name—" Victor let out a chuckle. "—just calls her 'Beautiful.' I think he's a little embarrassed. It's all new to him—the whole crush thing." Mary Margaret marveled at Victor's skill again. Apparently he and Ruby did have a lot in common. Between the two of them, they could manipulate the world.

 _Beautiful._ Every instance when Killian called her that assaulted her one after the other.

' _Please, bell. Ring. Please, just ring already,'_ she prayed.

Knowing full well what they were doing to Emma, Mary Margaret felt guilty watching the girl counting down the seconds on the clock.

"I'm sorry," she cut off Victor, deciding that this was enough for the day. "This must be so boring for you guys. So, anyone have anything interesting going on this—"

"No!" David said too quickly, thwarting Mary Margaret's attempt to change the subject and relieve Emma. "I mean, please, go ahead! I—I'm good at fixing problems and relationship stuff…"

' _Smooth, David_ ,' Emma thought bitterly. _'You jerk. Just let her talk about the damn weather instead.'_

"Oh, really?" Victor jumped at the chance. "Okay then maybe you can help. You see, he—" The bell rang and Emma started to pull David away without saying goodbye, but he stood firmly where he was and looked at Mary Margaret.

"We could always meet at lunch on Monday and I could try to help you out if you want." David had no intention of helping Killian Jones move in on his best friend, 'Beautiful,' but he couldn't pass up a chance to spend some time with Mary Margaret. Not when he was getting so closed to her talking to him more.

She smiled and nodded her head so much that it was dizzying. Things felt different for her. She wasn't all about Victor's game. Everything wasn't about Killian and Emma or Ruby and Victor, this was about her and David now—and it felt so fantastic, she couldn't stop smiling all weekend long.

* * *

Afterschool, the minions waited by Killian's car.

"I didn't know you had it in you," Victor smiled. "I was actually afraid you were going to run away or something again."

"Me, too. I was really nervous, but I sounded okay, right? And today?"

"You were great, Mary Margaret! I think the more we hang out together, the more comfortable you'll get."

Mary Margaret hugged her books tightly and looked to the sky as if thanking the gods, the universe, whoever was blessing her and David. In all her giddiness, she didn't see the person who helped her get over some of that shyness of hers walking up to them.

"Please tell me why you deliberately threw me in the line of fire because the last time I checked in, you said _don't_ run into her," Killian fumed.

Like yesterday, he attempted to follow the new map Victor had made for Friday; now in orange. Today, however, Killian tossed it into the trash after the second time he had to run away from Emma—partly because of this so-called _plan_ to stay away from her, but mainly because he still didn't know how to approach her. Getting mad at Victor was easier than cursing himself for being such a coward again. So, he just showed up late to all his classes and helped Mrs. Mills with her book again.

Victor opened his mouth to explain, but Killian didn't give him the chance.

"Do you know how many bloody times the blasted thing sent me scrambling away like an idiot? You said I'd be Swan-free this week, so how the hell was I supposed to know what to say to her yesterday?" Whatever. Let the cardigan-girl yell at him.

"Wait, you talked to her?" Mary Margaret lined up with Killian to glare at Victor, too. "Victor! Why am I even helping if you won't tell me what it is you're doing?"

Victor tried to explain again, but she didn't let him either.

"I knew you were up to something. Why would you do that? Emma might still be upset and you send the mindless miscreant to talk to her?"

"Is this about yesterday, love? I'm sorry, but like I said, it just would never work. I'm just trying to be realistic here."

"Trust me, you could never meet my standards."

"So she says." Killian sighed dramatically and consoled her, "It's alright, darling. I understand your pain. No one will ever compare to me. How sad for you."

"Get over yourself." Victor leaned back against the car and watched the two duke it out. He decided it was best they get it out of their systems before he talked anymore about business.

"Such a thin line between love and hate," Killian mocked.

"Ha! You would know! Emma throws one wrench in your plans and you go and screw everything up, then what? Oh yeah, you come to us with your tail between your legs and expect us to fix it!" She directed her anger back onto Victor now, " _We_ won't be able to do that unless I'm included in these schemes of yours, Victor."

"I knew she was wound up a little too tight," Killian smirked unaffectedly. "It was only a matter of time before she snapped—"

"You'd know all about that, wouldn't you? Mr. ' _I-tried-to-get-even_ because Emma hurt my feelings _'_ " She let out a deeply frustrated huff and massaged her temples, mumbling to herself, "How in the world are we going to get Emma to forgive, let alone go out with, such a nuisance?"

"Well, aren't you just a little ray of sunshine in my life," Killian bit.

A shrilly voice rang behind Mary Margaret. It was her cheerleader _friend_ giggling with someone else.

"Wow! Look at that, the virgin is talking to boys! Whoa, there! I guess she's tired of—"

"Why don't you go wave your pom-poms at someone who cares," Mary Margaret spat at them, still riding the high of her rage.

The girls were speechless; Mary Margaret was so agitated that she could probably take on the whole squad right now. Victor blinked a few times after the girls called her a freak and left.

"Well, this week has been an absolute waste of my time," Killian said.

"No it hasn't," Victor said cryptically, offering no further explanation. "So, what'd you say to her?"

"Nothing. I just said, 'Hey.'"

"Romantic," she grunted and rolled her eyes.

Killian glared at her, but didn't say anything back. One point for Mary Margaret—she'd finally ruined his undefeated last-word streak.

Victor didn't elaborate much more after that. He did promise to tell them next week, but said that everyone should just chill out for now. Unfortunately, Killian and Emma were even more withdrawn than the weekend before, but this time, they stopped being so stubborn and just let the thoughts and feelings come and go as they pleased. It was both relieving and depressing, but the answer was starting to become clearer.

By Sunday night, Killian's uncle had asked him if he was on drugs while Emma's father made her an appointment to see if she needed any.


	6. Victor's Madness (Part Two)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Here's the second and last part to 'Victor's Madness.' You 10 Things movie fans: I'm sorry. I had to put the panties scene in there. I just couldn't fight it. Sorry again.
> 
> Big changes for all our ships: Snowing, Frankenwolf, & Captain Swan

Emma passed on roaming the halls with David in his quest to find Mary Margaret. The last thing she needed or wanted right now was to have to 'parade around like she was so bloody invincible,' as Killian had so kindly phrased. She didn't feel like being _Emma Swan_ today, she just wanted to be Emma Swan. No emphasis; no need to prove how tough she was; no need to prove her strength; no need to walk with her head deliberately held up high.

So after urging David to go pursue Mary Margaret and 'help' her with Killian's apparent predicament over 'Beautiful,' she escaped to her tree. Lying in the shade on her jacket, listening to nothing but the wind rustling everything around her, she actually felt herself relax for a minute and right after that minute, she resumed her continuous battle with herself. Interestingly enough, one of the two voices wasn't putting up as much of a fight in trying to hold up her denial; however, it was still calling for reinforcements to defend her pride.

Emma had reached the end of the road, gone as far as she could go, and realized that she could accept and confess all she wanted to herself, but it would just sit there in her head collecting dust unless she did something about it. Like most things in her life, it would sadly just end up joining the rest of them in their cobwebbed family of cowardice.

That in itself was a new one to add to the collection of unspoken truths. Emma was afraid, daresay a coward even which was another thing Killian had been right about.

That was the next truth she had to accept; Killian understood her too well to just be written off. It also explained why she couldn't shut him out; why she gave him the option to walk back in.

The thought of that whole scene alone made her curse. She'd put herself out on a limb and it's not that he completely rejected _her_ this time—he did say 'hey' and as David said in his own situation with Mary Margaret, that was 'a good sign' or could be a good sign… Hopefully was a good sign.

She hoped that smile greeting wasn't just out of politeness because again for two reasons; first, she hated to be pitied; and second was what she had just recently accepted—Killian wasn't just some random stranger she'd meaninglessly interacted with in the span of her life. She couldn't just forget about that kind of connection with someone—no matter how bad the argument or obnoxious the person was.

Killian made an impression on her and there was no way to undo that.

Every time she'd see him now, she'd just remember how well he perceived her—and how he'd somehow managed to get her to drop all defenses. Next truth: He hadn't exactly done anything to make her alarm bells ring that day they'd skipped out of school to talk. He didn't do anything to alarm her. She didn't even shut down when he had her talking about her mother and the man who claimed to be her father.

It was his mention of Jefferson that dredged up all that bitterness and anger that she had spewed onto him.

She sighed, feeling torn between that sense of peace that accompanied acceptance and her anxiety about how messy everything had become, especially since she still felt overwhelmingly guilty for trying to axe down his self-esteem.

Emma wasn't crystal clear on everything happening, but what she did know was that her gut was telling her not to dismiss this—him. Damn it. He really was growing on her, wasn't he?

* * *

Killian had stopped lying to himself, too, but he wasn't just embracing the truth with open arms either. There were some things about Emma that he just hadn't allowed himself to even touch yet. He didn't need to open up another can of worms; he had plenty to deal with already. However, he did stop being ridiculous about denying what was right in front of him like he had all week long.

The first solid admission Killian had made was that if he didn't feel anything for Emma at all, then he wouldn't have had to battle with that strong urge to say something more than just, 'Hey.' He was starting to find the words he'd been searching for last week because now he had an idea of he wanted her to understand.

Next, Killian recognized his respect for Emma; explaining why it felt so important to have her good opinion. She wasn't perfect in her analyses of everyone, but she was able to pinpoint a hell of a lot more than the average person. It was because of this that he hoped she would possibly see something different in him. To confirm that he could be different.

He wasn't a good person, but he acknowledged that he wasn't _all_ bad either. There had to be some redeemable part in him that made him want to be this better person.

Most important, all of this—the hard-to-swallow truth, the insomnia, the exhaustion, the regret still grinding away at him—was further proof that Emma wasn't just a job.

With yet another sleepless night, Killian desperately needed his nicotine fix and walked toward the back building; the unflawed first map of Victor's folded up in his pocket. He was using the map to avoid Emma again—as the _plan_ required of him. Until he was given the okay, Killian would just have to keep lurking in the shadows until Victor decided to put him back into play.

However, the map couldn't predict where she'd be at lunch and he just wanted to get to the back building already, so he took the fastest way there; around the side walkway next to the lawn which meant passing by the tree he'd seen Emma and David sitting under before.

Sure enough, when he looked over, she was there resting underneath it. It's like she could sense someone entering the clearing because he wasn't being loud at all—no bag zippers or buckles clinking and no dragging his feet. As he always did, he moved like a ghost, but she still propped herself up and immediately caught sight of him—catching sight of her.

Her eyes followed him as he passed, seeing how he almost slowed down to a stop directly across the field from her, as if debating whether or not to come over to her.

Emma didn't have David around her. She was by herself and he could easily just go over and tell her—

' _Just duck out every time you see Emma.'_ Damn it.

He picked up the pace while furiously searched for his lighter until he was out of sight.

Emma collapsed back down and frowned up at the leaves. He looked like he was going to stop… Before she could read too far into it, she tilted her head back up because this time she could definitely hear someone approaching. It was David with that happy smile of a fool in love.

David didn't say anything at first. He just kept grinning at Emma and for the entire world to see. He had hope that maybe someday Mary Margaret would at least consider him a friend because from his perspective, it didn't look like she was interested in anything more than that. If she wasn't, well… He just liked being around her.

David felt better around her and if he thought she sparkled before, she was blinding now. Her coming out of her shell and keeping herself open to him was just so glorious.

He finally took a seat next to Emma and sighed, again, like a fool in love, then looked down at her. No matter how many times he breathed in deep or tried to relax his face, the grin just kept tugging those corners of his mouth back up.

"Should I even ask if you want me to tell you what I heard about 'Beautiful?'" David asked, preparing to hear her stubborn protests that couldn't stop him from sharing the information he'd collected anyway.

"Sure. What'd you hear?" There was no dread or reluctance in her voice and this change in attitude was alarming enough to actually break David's powerful trance.

"Whoa… That was easy. Are you sick?"

He eyed her, looking for any indication that she was an imposter pretending to be Emma. She turned her head away to look back up at the tree branches. He paused before continuing, observing how far away she looked, like she was half here and half in her own world.

"Mary Margaret and Victor said he's been really out of it lately and that 'Beautiful' has him wrapped around her finger."

"He's avoiding me," she said simply, trying to figure out how he could be wrapped around her finger yet want nothing to do with her at the same time. Maybe it was faulty information.

"Didn't we establish that already?" David asked.

"I think he wants to talk to me though." At that point, Emma wasn't even talking to David. She was thinking out loud, reliving flashbacks spanning from a couple of minutes ago to these last several days.

"Mary Margaret apparently thinks so, too, but," his disapproval was stripped from his face and that goofy grin made its way back, "when Victor wasn't paying attention, she called him a 'stubborn idiot.'" He smiled, "I think I like her more and more each day."

Emma, still not meeting David's eyes, smiled weakly at yet another one of his proclamations of love for the girl. When asked about what she was thinking about, Emma made up quick lies and just asked general questions to get him fill the silence with talk of Mary Margaret while the gears in her head started up; trying to make sense of the new information.

* * *

Those gears in Emma's head kept on turning, lasting all the way to her last class of the day.

If she had to pick, History was the most tolerable. It made sense to her because it was all about understanding cause and consequence. You learned about past mistakes and watched the huge messes and impact that followed with repeating those mistakes.

This class wasn't History though; it was Mrs. Lucas's English class and everything was subjective. It was filled with double meanings and text with subtleties that she just didn't see as clearly as some of the other students. She didn't like how this class made her dig deep down for explanations and responses because she was never good at that. On top of it, she never heard the end of how her writing style was just too straight forward and uncompromising for their teacher.

Their teacher, Mrs. Lucas, was an old woman with an iron will, hard stare, sharp memory, and a strict, no-nonsense way of running her class. Her words were usually harsh, blunt, and at times, biting; and while Emma wasn't exactly teacher's pet, she appreciated that the woman always shut Jefferson up whenever he would start to make cracks about her.

Like today, for instance.

Mrs. Lucas passed back Emma's test and gave her a wry smile.

"Hm. Between your non-stop arguments and criticism of everything emotional, you must actually pay attention to what I'm saying. Good job, Emma. Maybe you can knock some sense into that sister of yours."

"It's funny that Ruby even needs a tutor since her anti-social sister never lets her go out," Jefferson yelled from across the room. The whole class started to chuckle quietly, but Mrs. Lucas shut them all up.

"You know what else is funny? Finding out that daddy can't buy you a passing grade in this class." The way his face fell was priceless. "Maybe you should be less concerned about Miss Gold's grades and more concerned about yours."

"Just trying to keep your stupidity from infecting her," Emma yelled back at him and the whole class erupted again.

"And you," her head snapped to Emma, "keep your comments to yourself, E—" She never finished her sentence. Instead, she turned her attention to the student just now arriving and not planning to stay. "Ah, Mr. Jones. Punctual as usual."

Killian was hanging in the doorway, waiting for the inevitable sentence to study hall after he picked up his graded test. With a look of pure boredom, even more dramatically emphasized just to piss off the old woman, he lazily lifted his head. It only took him half a second to catch sight of Emma sitting two rows down.

"Better late than never, I suppose." Mrs. Lucas paused and shuffled through the stack of papers in her hand. "Actually, no," she held out his test, "'never' is definitely better."

He kept his face impassive and took the paper and left, but not before taking one last glance at the girl in the blue leather jacket.

How did that manage to escape his attention?

How did the fact that she parked only two spaces down from him manage to escape her attention as well?

Or, how did she not notice him standing there on the sidewalk while she searched for those elusive keys of hers?

And there they were, dropped right outside her door again. Her keys wouldn't be the only thing she couldn't find one day even though it'd take an interesting kind of person to want to steal that little yellow thing.

The last time they were in this situation, Killian had to keep himself from laughing at the creativity in her cursing. He remembered just leaning against her car and how entertaining it was to watch her nearly throw things around looking the keys in his hand. He remembered how she jumped when he snuck up behind her and whispered in her ear. He remembered him using them as leverage to get her to go out with him, even if he knew it wouldn't work in the end. And then there was also—

' _Just duck out every time you see Emma.'_ The sound of Victor's voice in his head brought him back to the present. He sighed because now he only remembered what he had to do.

He was just about to slip by unnoticed when he heard Emma huff out in frustration and slam her bag down on the hood.

' _No, Killian. You're supposed to trust in the so-called plan.'_

Emma looked tired and he hated seeing that look of defeat on her now. She bent her head forward and squeezed her eyes shut, like she was done dealing with everything around her. He could fix that. All he had to do was grab them real quick.

' _Just duck out every time—'_ There wasn't any real harm in helping her quickly, right?

"You dropped these," he echoed his words from before, but this time there wasn't anything teasing about it.

Emma eyes flew open and just saw blue—reminding her that she still hadn't figured out what shade of blue. For few seconds, they studied each other; drinking in anything they could gather, but there wasn't much because everything was just so cloudy. Maybe because they were both in a daze, reliving the time from before.

' _Just duck out—'_

He was going to kill Victor after all this. Victor knew what he was doing when he kept repeating and repeating, drilling over and over that stupid nagging voice into Killian's head. Still, Killian knew it was time to end this. He'd already failed and deviated from the _plan_.

Killian held them out to her. Emma reached for them hesitantly like she was waiting for him to retract and deny her them, but he didn't flinch back. There was no spark of mischief in his eyes because he wasn't playing with her and as soon as she had them in her grasp, he left.

She felt it again. She felt sick to her stomach with it. There was no question about it this time; she was disappointed.

* * *

The next day, Killian walked through the lot and braced himself for another day of classes—and another day of staying away from Emma.

That's what it was now. He wasn't just _avoiding_ her like in the beginning. Now, he was struggling to not stray from that pitiful plan of Victor's. He was becoming increasingly irritated with it the longer it went on. The morning just made him even more short-tempered and he didn't want to stop and have to look at the person controlling his moves right now; or lack thereof.

Mary Margaret and Victor stopped walking and stared at Killian's back as he made his way toward the cold, stony building.

"Explain," Mary Margaret demanded once again, but Victor just smiled and stayed vague as ever.

"It's working."

"What is?"

"The plan."

"Which is?" Victor only grinned maniacally in response. "Just tell me already!" she yelled, stamping her foot down.

"You know you've got a temper thing going on, right?" She ignored all his comments after about her newfound bossiness and continued to throw questions at him.

Four long classes later, Victor still refused to let Mary Margaret in on the _plan_ , but now she couldn't hound him anymore because she was standing outside the library, waiting for Victor's pitiful tutoring lesson to finish.

"Mary Margaret!" David just kept appearing out of nowhere lately.

Really it was because of all the effort he was putting into tracking her down every day, but to Mary Margaret, it seemed coincidental. Wait, no—scratch that. To Mary Margaret, this was more of a fated sign; destiny encouraging her to keep on pushing herself through everything threatening to hold her back. However, it was still a challenge for her to not fold into that nervousness that she still felt every time he came around her, especially since she was alone with her only backup still making googly eyes at Ruby inside the other room.

"Hi, David…" she forced out through a nervous smile.

"What're you doing out here?" He looked around for Victor.

' _It's okay, Mary Margaret. Remember that it's David, a good guy—unlike that cocky demon spawn sent to drive you insane—'_

"Oh, I'm waiting for Victor," she answered, laying her malicious thoughts about Killian to rest. "He's doing some tutoring."

Inside the library, Victor happily watched Mary Margaret _not_ -run away from David. She was doing it; very slowly, but at least she was getting there.

"Oh my god!" Ruby accidentally said too loud, earning her a bunch of shushes around her. She dropped her voice to a whisper with all her enthusiasm still intact. "Does your friend have a crush on David?!"

Killian was linked to Emma, no doubt about it, but the real person wrapped around a girl's finger was Victor; nodding profusely, unable to deny her anything including answers. If she asked about the meaning of life, he'd be determined to figure it out as fast as possible. He was that blindly dedicated.

"Look, she's so shy around him. They're just so cute!" That's when a thought occurred to him.

"Ruby? How do you feel about taking her under your wing?" She looked away from the awkward couple and gave him a cheshire cat grin.

The two cast aside their textbooks and started brainstorming ways of giving Mary Margaret a little push. Outside, Mary Margaret was pushing herself to the limit as she and David stumbled through a conversation made mostly of smiles and nervous laughter.

* * *

Meanwhile on the other side of school, Emma had been spent most of her lunch sitting underneath her tree again.

She may have picked this spot because a certain blue-eyed boy saw her here yesterday, but it was all for nothing. The only person who even walked through this side of campus was the janitor. Luckily, she came prepared and pulled out her headphones; trying to enjoy what little remained of her break.

At first, she practiced great discipline in controlling her thoughts. She closed her eyes and focused on the music. She paid extra attention to the lyrics that she usually let slip by and even replayed songs to break down and pick out every instrument playing in them.

She kept her mind busy, concentrated, and focused, but eventually everything went fuzzy and it drifted effortlessly back to the problem at hand.

How could Killian just hand over her keys like that? He didn't even _try_ to stick around longer than necessary. He was just being polite like before. As nice as it was to know that she was wrong about him being everything but a gentleman, this version of him was so impersonal.

It threw her a little when she realized that she was wishing for that obnoxious charm of his to shine through this cold front he'd put up toward her. Wish all she wanted, Killian just seemed done with her and whatever connection she had imagined between them was being left behind. The problem was that she still held on to her end just in case he'd tug her back.

And all of this wouldn't have happened if she hadn't said those things to him first. She breathed out a heavy sigh and let her head fall back against the trunk of her tree. If she hadn't of done that though, would she know what she knew now?

It all caught up to her again.

The guilt of knowing that she did the very thing that everyone always did to her. She made judgments without even bothering to understand him. Yeah, she was right most of the time, but this time, she hadn't been.

Aside from David, no on in her life ever really apologized for anything they did to her, so Emma didn't either. She'd even gotten into the habit of striking first before everyone else could because, as Killian had said, she was scared and afraid of getting hurt again.

Then Killian came along and changed the game because she didn't just attack someone first; she attacked _him._ She'd hurt him and she couldn't stand herself for doing that. It was all so confusing and it still frustrated her because she remembered how much easier it was to be remorseless.

How was she supposed to get rid of everything inside her when she couldn't even say it out loud? Ruby was right. Killian was an idiot. He apologized and she didn't deserve it. The kind of person she had become didn't deserve anything from anyone.

Her mind was a toxic place to be in right now, so she ripped off her headphones and finally opened her eyes to escape her pity party. She felt her anxiety lessen as she sat there, trying to ground herself and tuning back into the world around her. When she had, she felt that nudge in her brain to look over her shoulder again.

Leaning up against the tree next to her was Killian. He wasn't looking at her. He wasn't even paying attention to her; he was just peering up the shuffling leaves, bright and translucently green from the light.

Even after she'd fully turned to him, blatantly staring, he didn't do anything. She felt silly, like looking at a statue and expecting it to move. She couldn't take the tension anymore.

"What are you doing?" Emma asked lowly, devoid of any aggression or suspicion. She was honestly confused. He was done with her, so why was he sitting with her?

"Staring at the leaves."

"I see that."

"Then why did you ask what I was doing?" he mocked, still staring above.

"Smartass." Killian smiled at it because there wasn't any bite to it. There was nothing harsh, nothing meant to shut him or their conversation down. If anything, she sounded amused. "Really, Killian. What are you doing?"

"I am simply enjoying the beauty of nature and basking in your presence." It was dramatic, yes, but it was very much the truth. They sat in silence for a while until Emma couldn't take the tension anymore again.

"So…" her voice trailed, unsure of where to go or how she should act. She went with pretending like she didn't like 'basking' in _his_ presence. "Guess my vacation's over, huh?"

"Well, I figured it'd be best to stay away from you after our last non-date. I am weak though and couldn't get you off my mind. So, I guess you're stuck with me constantly pestering you again," he smiled because, again, it was completely the truth.

Emma didn't say anything, she just watched him. The both of them were reliving their last 'non-date' and they tensed up at the memory. All his regret about it came flooding back in and whatever playfulness in his voice before was swept away.

"I regret having said those things to you," he said, turning his head to finally look at her.

She searched his eyes and in them was something swirling around in all that blue; she didn't know exactly what it was, but it scared her, setting off so many alarm bells in her head. She should leave. She should get out of there, but she couldn't. She watched whatever it was bounce around all those blue facets, and the longer she did, the more that fear started to disappear.

It reassured her, but she didn't know what it reassured her of.

For him, feeling her scrutinizing him was simply unnerving as always, but he welcomed it now because he was hoping she'd find something there. Something that told her how sincerely sorry he was and of his hope that she wouldn't push him away.

It didn't matter who started it. Killian had been losing his mind ever since he purposely hurt her in a way that he knew she couldn't protect herself against. She didn't know how, which is why it was so easy for him because that's what Killian did—he didn't try to categorize people and strike first like Emma; he paid special attention, patiently learning a person's weaknesses.

He didn't deserve her forgiveness, but he was selfish and wanted it all the same.

To think that with all his praise about her light, her fire, spark, and how she'd woken him up inside, he had tried to put her out. He was lucky she was so strong and he was even luckier seeing her nod just then; accepting the truth in his words.

"Okay," she said, still nodding. The air around them was so thick it was almost impossible to breathe. The heavy tone of their silence weighed down on them. It probably would've crush them if it hadn't been for Killian opening his mouth and breaking it with the most ridiculously obvious lie.

"And I didn't mean any of it—" Killian stopped at the sound of Emma's bursting laughter. He smiled, closing his eyes at how stupid the words sounded even to him.

"Now that's a complete lie." It was so bad a lie, so pathetic, that Emma didn't even take offense to it.

"Let me rephrase," he chuckled. "I wish I hadn't said it _the way_ I did… or even at all." He'd apologized to her more times and in so many ways that she'd lost track. All this time, he didn't expect one back and she hadn't given him any, but her head was screaming that it was her turn. She owed it to him and herself. She had wanted the chance and now she had it. It was her turn and she sucked in a quick breath and forced the two little words out.

"I'm sorry," she rushed so quickly that Killian wasn't even certain he'd heard her clearly.

She was starting to feel herself break under the pressure of his eye-contact and if she'd learned anything from this experience, it was that Killian dealt with the tension a lot better than she did. She always cracked and, very much like in her fight mode, she acted first on impulse.

"The things I said, I, um..." They were both new at this, but she was just dreadful at it. She was acting on impulse right now as she made her own pathetic attempt at lying. "I didn't mean it either—"

Ugh.

Why did she even try to pull that one right after he did? She chose sounding like an idiot over being honest because they both knew that during their fight, she was a hundred percent convinced that she was right.

"Yes you did," Killian said plainly, his turn now to call her out.

"But I was wrong," she blurted out right after.

As with everything Emma did, it was small, but it meant so much more and in appreciation of it, Killian immediately jumped into lighter conversation for her sake.

"So," he cleared his throat, "I never knew you were in my class." The transition was so abrupt and with his over-casualness, she gave him a small smile; a thank you for sparing her pride.

"I don't remember ever seeing you," she said, going along with it. "Can't see what you're not looking for, I guess."

"Well, I have a system that works pretty well, too. Last one in, first one out."

"When you actually show up, right?" she jabbed lightly.

"Hey, I try! Eh… Occasionally. There's no point, the woman hardly lets me in."

" _Right."_

"I'm not joking. I gave her too much hell when I transferred in… And a bit more in addition to that."

"So you're saying that our teacher won't let her student come to class."

"Not that I'm complaining," he smirked. "Our beloved principal doesn't hold my impressive string of absences against me, but it does get rather annoying at times. You know how she changed the tests?"

"Yeah, they—Oh god. Don't tell me it's because of you that I can't just guess and fill in bubbles anymore." Killian shrugged innocently. "I hate you. I actually have to listen now."

"How do you think I feel? She takes no pity in the fact that I'm not there to hear her drone on—her little form of revenge, I suppose."

"You can use my notes next time—if you want or whatever," she added that last part hurriedly. She just kept hanging her pride out there…

"Might take you up on that, Beautiful," he threw her a crooked smile. Killian just kept sparing it like a gentleman, but some of this was lost on her because Emma heard that damn word again. 'Beautiful.' She was so tired of hearing all these comments and updates about 'Beautiful' from David, Victor, and Mary Margaret. She was pretty sure that she hated the word now.

"Seriously, stop it already," she groaned.

"Then what would you rather have me call you?" She had the choice of either keeping him out or letting him in, but really, there was only one option. She had been sitting under that tree for a reason.

"Emma. My name's Emma," she answered. She saw a split-second of smugness cross his face before he could mask it, and she shook her head, laughing to herself about how blind she'd been. "But you knew that already, didn't you?"

"I did," he shrugged.

"Then what was with all that?!" she exclaimed. "Were you just trying to get under my skin the whole time?"

"Partly," he laughed, not elaborating.

"So, are you going to tell me the rest or should I just assume everything you do is to bother me?"

He lowered his eyes and again searched for the right words.

This time, he didn't come up empty.

"Reputations have a way of getting out of hand," he began. Emma furrowed her brows, curious about where he was going with this. "Mine around here is even worse than yours—which, for the record, I've only discovered recently. Not as colorful as mine, but what can you do?" he smirked.

"You didn't answer my question."

"So impatient."

"Says the boy who thinks it's storytelling time."

"As I was saying before I was so insensitively interrupted—they all like to pretend they know you; they talk about you like they do; lie about you shamelessly for fun. Before you know it, your name's stolen, _Emma Swan_."

He looked back up at Emma.

"I just thought I'd give you the choice; to allow me to know you."

She didn't know what to say to that and hoped, like before, that he'd shift the conversation somewhere she could breathe. That just kept happening with them. It was all fun and banter then the next second heavy and serious.

"Would've been a damn shame if you chose not to though," he steered it back and teased. "Rejection hurts, you know, and you do a lot of it."

"Thank you..."

"Anytime, Emma."

It seemed like no matter if they were talking or not, they were always communicating—always watching, studying, and trying to read the other. This moment was no exception and as usual in the realm of high school, that school bell broke the moment.

"It appears our rendezvous is over." He got up and held out his hand to help her up.

She stared at it then back up to him. Just as with yesterday, she hesitantly reached for it, waiting for it to all be some new joke or game, but it wasn't. He only clasped onto it and pulled her up.

"I'll be seeing you, Emma. Maybe even in class if I manage to sneak in." He started to back away then turned to her again. "Oh, and Emma—" he found her eyes, knowing that was the best way to get her to listen, "Thank you."

It wasn't just a thank you for offering to help him out with class; it was a thank you for everything. She forgave him. She went out of her way to apologize for the sake of _his_ feelings. She allowed him to know her.

She had just given him—them—a second chance.

* * *

Emma was watching TV and tearing through a bag of chips, finally able to actually enjoy it all. She even pleasantly greeted Ruby.

"Wow, you're in a good mood."

"Not really," Emma replied.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with the boy I saw you sitting with today, would it?" Ruby sang, plopping down on the couch and tucking her feet under her.

"What are you talking about?" Emma looked unfazed, but since Ruby knew more than she was letting on, it was only funny to watch her sister trying so hard.

"Looks like you have an admirer," Ruby smiled, but mainly because of her pending freedom.

"He's not an admirer. He's just—"

Some stranger who came up out of the blue and figured her out; always looking at her like she was fascinating?

"A friend. He's a friend." She just called Killian a friend. _'Well, why not?'_

"Cool, cool." Satisfied with her sister's answer and hesitation in answering, Ruby grabbed the remote and turned off the TV.

"Hey! I was watching that."

"I have news! Big news!" Ruby said excitedly. "So, I'm going to give a new friend of mine a makeover."

"Wow. How groundbreaking."

"Shut up. Anyway, I only brought it up because I'm doing it so she'll have more confidence around her crush…" she grinned over at Emma. "David!"

"Wait, what?"

Here's the thing about David. His 'little' crush on Mary Margaret was such a huge deal because he was actually kind of picky. He didn't just date around—and there were a few of girls who tried really hard to get him to. David was holding out for what he called 'the real thing.' He obviously saw something true in Mary Margaret.

"She doesn't have a chance. Trust me," Emma said with this all in mind.

"Hey! Don't say that. Besides, I saw them today and body language speaks loads. I think he likes her already."

"Who is it?" David spent lunch with only one girl that she knew of. _'Could it be...?'_

"A senior, too. She has like two names, 'Mary Margaret.' Know her?" Oh, did she.

"Maybe if I saw her," Emma lied. "So, you honestly think that doing her hair and makeup is going to transform her?"

"Of course not. Though there is something to be said about looking good on the outside and feeling good inside, I think she needs to meet and talk to more people, new people—"

Emma raised an eyebrow. There was always a catch with Ruby and she could feel it coming.

"And, I think showing her a good time and having some fun is really important, too—"

Emma rolled her eyes. _'In 5… 4… 3… 2… 1…"_

"Which is why you should go to that party coming up so that I can take her and help her learn how to socialize," Ruby begged.

"Because you are just so selfless."

"Please, please, please?!"

"No."

"Emma! Come on, it'll be good for her."

"How is spending a night with a bunch of drunk idiots in a haze of cigarette smoke supposed to help her talk to David? He doesn't even go to those things!"

"Please? For her? For David?"

"For you."

"At least think about it, okay?"

"Whatever. I have homework." Emma got up and headed toward the stairs and smiled back at Ruby. "Have fun brushing your hair."

"Always do," she said, ignoring the meanness in Emma's comment.

Emma plopped down on her bed and stared at the posters on her ceiling. Forgetting the David and Mary Margaret bit, she wondered what Ruby was getting at.

So she sat with him; it didn't mean she liked him. Well, she did like him now—no use trying to deny that after their heart to heart today—but she didn't _like_ him.

' _Aquamarine? No…'_

Now that everything was cleared up, she was just tolerating him enough to maybe call him a friend. She didn't hate his company, but it's not like she jumped up and down looking forward to it either.

_'Cobalt? No...'_

Yeah, Emma was totally just tolerating him while she absentmindedly tried to figure out his eye color.

' _Cerulean? No…'_

* * *

On Wednesday, when Killian came back to the tree to 'bug' Emma, she paid extra attention to the hue of his eyes. She didn't even realize that she was doing it—so much that between running through every variation of blue she knew and keeping up with his wit, she'd forgotten all about David coming to meet her.

He was walking toward the maple tree and realized she wasn't alone. He strained his eyes, but could barely make out the details from where he stood. He kept walking over, little details showing up one by one.

There was someone at the tree with her—sitting with her—this someone was a boy—this boy looked a lot like Killian Jones—this boy _was_ Killian Jones. David saw her shove Killian in the arm, so he charged through the field, but halted just a moment later when he heard laughing.

There was something not right about this, so with the wonders of modern technology, he asked her.

Emma pulled out her phone and read the text:

' _I'm confused...'_ David sent.

' _Oops sorry! Meet at the café later'_

' _Do I need to rescue you?'_

' _No, not in distress.'_

' _What's going on?'_

' _Talk later, k?'_

' _Why is he there?'_

' _Later!'_

"So, you're letting your guard dog off the leash today?" Killian asked, reading the conversation over her shoulder.

"You don't understand the concept of boundaries, huh?"

"Nope."

"You're ridiculous."

"So is your taste in music, but you don't see me throwing that in your face."

"You just did," she sighed and rolled her eyes. "Not exactly a Prince Charming, are you?"

"Of course not, I am far more charming than he could ever be."

"Are you always this obnoxious?"

"Not on dates," he winked.

"That's a lie."

"No, that's a joke."

"And that's a lie about a lie."

"Do you have a lie detector hidden somewhere in that tired leather jacket of yours?"

"Hey." She glared. "Don't even with my jacket."

"I bet the first question you ask yourself every morning is: 'The red one or the blue one?'"

"Not true." He raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "I own a black one, too."

"They don't count—everyone has one of those," he laughed and shook his head.

"Do you, Jones?"

"Of course, Swan, but I don't abuse it as much as you do," he smiled at her glare. "So, back to the subject of dating—"

"No." She rolled her eyes. Then when he pouted at her, she rolled them again.

"One day they're going to get stuck like that." She did it again just to spite him.

"And saved by the bell," she sighed in relief and grabbed her things.

"Indeed. Because any minute longer, I'd have your number and you'd already be thinking about what color dress to wear."

"A bruise and slight sting in your jaw is what you'd have."

"You just continue to break my heart. I don't think I can survive another day of this."

"One can hope."

"You'd miss me." Without a word, Emma left him and started back towards the main building. "So, may I 'bother' you again tomorrow?"

"You don't give up, do you?" she shouted over her shoulder, still walking away.

"Is that a 'yes?'"

"No!"

"Well, is that a 'no?!'"

"No!" He swore he heard her laughing.

A couple hours later, he attempted to go to English with plans of stealing the desk behind Emma and continually breaking her concentration throughout the whole class, but sadly, Mrs. Lucas foiled his plans with one look.

* * *

Afterschool, he finally decided to check in with the minions and couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"What do you mean that was all a part of the plan?!" Killian yelled.

He couldn't believe that the tension, the dodging, the depression, and pushing him to the point where he damned the plan and revolted against Victor's orders was, in fact, _the actual plan._

"I just wanted to see how long it would take you to—" Victor was cut off by his outburst.

"To what? Lose my bloody mind?!"

"No... To step up and fix things with Emma. So, really, the plan was to make the miscreant do what he does best—mess everything up," Mary Margaret smiled at him, ignoring the cold glare coming from Killian who didn't say anything back—another point for Mary Margaret. "Still, I don't understand why you couldn't tell _me_."

"I just didn't want to distract you from what you've been working on," Victor said vaguely so that only Mary Margaret would understand. She didn't want anyone to know about David; least of all, Killian. "I know it sucks, Killian, but hey! It worked, right?"

He understood and as much as he hated feeling outsmarted and played like that, it had worked and now he and Emma were on good ground. Still, he was bitter, still racked up with sleep debt, and had to stop by somewhere on the way home.

"Where are you going?!" Victor called out to him when he just turned away.

"There's something I have to pick up," he said, tossing his bag into the backseat.

Victor turned back around to Mary Margaret who started to clap; she couldn't deny him his victory.

"I'm impressed, Victor. You're a real puppeteer."

"No way, I don't control them. I just set them up and watch it all unfold. I told you he was our guy. He's a great match for Emma, total chemistry."

"Oh, please." She rolled her eyes. "It's all just a part of the deal."

"What? You think all that drama was just because of some arrangement?"

"Victor, he has a deal with Jefferson. He's supposed to get Emma to go to that party on Friday. I don't see why else he would stress out so much."

"Stressing? He was miserable!" A normal person would've said that with sympathy in their eyes, but Victor was all excitement and enthusiasm. "Look, it may have started out that way, but now it's something else entirely."

"You're imagining things, Victor."

"It'll hit him soon enough."

"Now I just think you're delusional," she finished then nodded toward Ruby who was staring at Mary Margaret like a shiny new toy. She started to walk away, but Victor tugged her back.

"Oh, no. Not today," he smiled at her reassuringly.

"You must be Mary Margaret, I'm Ruby," she said excitedly, holding out her hand—another mannerism she didn't realize she had taken up from Victor. "Nice to meet you, future girlfriend of David."

"Victor!" she shoved him in the shoulder for spilling her secret.

"You sure she's the shy type?" Ruby laughed.

"I've been questioning it lately, but throw her in front of David and watch the difference."

"That's not true," Ruby defended her newest friend. "You saw her chatting him up outside the library," she smiled and winked over at Mary Margaret.

"I—we weren't—hardly," she stammered and started to blush. Ruby wrapped her arm around her.

"Ah! She's so cute, look at her!" Ruby squealed. "Don't worry. I'm not going to make you look trampy or anything. I'm just here to help you loosen up and it also helps that David's been like a brother for the last four years."

"You would do that for me?" Mary Margaret asked, her voice full of surprise and gratitude.

That was Ruby's magic spell—and although Mary Margaret didn't sound anything like her when she used it, it was unnerving to hear it.

"Totally, um," Ruby cleared her throat and put on another smile. "We'll meet up tomorrow, okay? Bye, guys."

Ruby, like Mary Margaret, had begun her own transformation; though for her, things weren't getting clearer, she was just becoming more confused. Her life didn't seem as glamorous anymore. Everything she thought she wanted, she didn't want anymore. She didn't see people the same way. Her conversations with her friends weren't as interesting to listen to.

Before, when Jefferson would sling his arm around her and tell her she was gorgeous, she couldn't stop giggling about it for hours. Now, she only smiled politely and noticed just how much everything she said was ignored by him and his friends. She liked her life before, she remembered how sparkly and vivid it all was, but now it was unfamiliar. She didn't know if she liked this new slant of light on everything.

As Ruby walked away, she shook it off and tried to fall back into blissful ignorance. What better place to help channel that than going to the mall for some retail therapy?

Her spirits perk back up, she had freedom for at least a couple of hours while Emma was out being boring with David.

"So, tell me. Is this another one of your set ups?" Mary Margaret asked.

"Ruby and I set up a plan, yes, but you'll know about it all. Promise."

"How do I know you're not just telling me that?"

"You don't... Duh duh duh!" He gave her a dramatically evil laugh. "Come on, I'll walk you home. Oh, guess who wouldn't shut up about you in our classes today."

"Did he really?!" she exclaimed.

"Just watching it all unfold," he said under his breath.

* * *

Emma found David already in their little café waiting eagerly, most likely, to interrogate her.

"What's going on?" he demanded.

"Hi to you, too."

"Why was he sitting with you?"

"Thanks for getting my drink," she ignored him again.

"What was he doing?"

"You know. He came over to bug me," she shrugged, at which David narrowed his eyes.

"Why did you _let_ him bug you? What am I missing here?"

"I don't have enough hot cocoa for this conversation," she joked, ignoring him once again.

"Wait. Do you _want_ him to—"

"Mary Margaret has a crush on you," she threw at him, saving herself from any more questions about Killian.

"Say that again?" He kept blinking, trying to wake himself up if this was all just a dream.

"Your crush has a crush on you. She's Ruby's new project."

"So this whole time, she's liked me?!" he beamed uncontrollably and even Emma had to smile back. The happiness and excitement radiating off of him was infectious.

"It would explain why she couldn't stand being around you at first. Ruby's trying to convince me to go to some party—'for Mary Margaret!'" she mimicked in her sister's voice, a voice she'd near perfected.

"The one on Friday?" he asked, starting to smile again.

"Oh god, no, David. Please don't tell me you're going to go just because—"

"Yes. Yes, I am," he answered and followed her outside where she could yell at him freely.

"Come on, David! Be serious!" He dropped his head forward and his whole body and posture slumped with it.

"Actually, no. Nevermind..." Emma raised an eyebrow at his sudden wave sadness. "I can't go because Mary Margaret—"

She rolled her eyes, David was no better than Ruby now.

"—will only go if a certain someone's kid sister goes and that can't happen because said person stubbornly won't agree even though it would mean the world to her best friend."

"Are you—Damn it, David. Really?!"

"Please, please, please?" he begged her, trying to break her resistance.

"This is all too familiar," she mumbled.

"It's just a party, we'll all go and have a great time—"

"Until you start lip-locking with Mary Margaret and I get left behind." He stared at her, silently begging and letting the guilt-trip creep its way onto Emma. "Fine! I'll go, but don't say anything to Ruby. I want to make her suffer a little. Oh, and I hope you know my misery comes with a price. You owe me big time."

"Thank you, Emma!" David pulled her into a bear hug and swung her around, but stopped when he looked over at her car. "Hey, what's on your car?"

Under the windshield wiper was a new CD and a note:

' _Educate yourself.'_

"Who's that from?" he asked. She turned the paper over, but as usual, it left her wanting to know more.

"Oh…" It finally dawned on her. "That makes sense."

"What does?"

"The music store over there. No wonder we keep crossing paths."

"Wait, who?"

"I'm going to head out," she said, reading over the titles on the back. "Catch you later."

"Emma, who—" David paused, everything clicking together. "Is that from _him_?!"

"Chill out," she sighed and started walking away.

"Emma, I don't think we should go here anymore. There's this really nice café on the far side of town that we could check out."

"Goodbye, David!"

"What, is he 'bugging' you with music recommendation now?! What's next?" he began to lecture, but Emma shut him up instantly.

"You're welcome for allowing your girlfriend to go to a party I might change my mind about!" He closed his mouth and his looming over-protectiveness shrunk back down to an embarrassed, desperate, love sick boy.

When Emma got home, she flew straight up to her room—but not because she was excited, no way.

She cursed while she wrestled with the plastic wrap on the case—but not because she was impatient to hear what Killian had picked out, nope.

She spent hours on her homework because she kept distracting herself by looking up lyrics—but not because she was trying to 'educate' herself.

She downloaded it all onto her phone and refused to take off her headphones at dinner because it was much better than listening to Ruby or Gold—but _definitely not_ because… because… um…

She was running out of excuses.

* * *

On Thursday, Victor couldn't seem to shake off David. Not that he wanted to, but David's sudden attachment was curious—and a fantastic sign. He also noticed how David just couldn't stop looking over at Mary Margaret who, feeling under the microscope, found herself a little quieter and her cheeks warmer than usual.

Meanwhile, Killian persuaded Emma to let him 'bother' her not at their tree—no longer just hers now—but at the stadium instead.

"Academically taking advantage of me. This is just the beginning, you know. Soon you'll be trying to steal my virtue."

"Virtue," she snorted.

Emma and Killian were, unbeknownst to them, sitting right by the steps they had fought at. Right now, she was rushing to do the homework she couldn't finish last night because of all her musical distractions.

"I think I'm entitled to see an answer here and there since I'm the reason why you actually get to hand it in now. I have to admit though, it was pretty funny passing it forward and watching Lucas do a double take."

"She must think she's gone mad."

"I think she thought it was a joke at first, but now she just looks paranoid—like you're going to pop up out of thin air or something."

"Nice to know I'm not forgotten," he smirked as Emma shook her head.

"Tell me what you did to make her hate you so much."

"As I said, I gave her hell last year, but she never had any proof that I was behind all the _mishaps_ in her classroom. The final straw was trying to nick the answer key for the midterm."

"Seriously? You were so desperate that you had to steal the answer sheet? What a dumbass."

"I'll have you know that I had no problem getting a B _without_ studying," he said offended. "However, some of Storybrooke's finest athletic idiots who needed the highest grade possible to pass their junior year were a different story and they were more than willing to pay, too."

"But you got caught," Emma said knowingly.

"Smart lass. Lucas finally had her ammo and Mills gave me detention for a while, but I realized she didn't care if I showed up to that either," he smirked.

"Lame," Emma sang, writing down another answer. Killian lit up a cigarette and chuckled at her.

"You know, most girls go for the whole 'rebel' thing," he said smugly, realizing just how much Emma stood out from all the others he'd met.

"Yeah, well most girls didn't successfully help the football team pass junior year."

"Excuse me?" he asked, a smile forming on his lips as he stared at her, still writing like she didn't say anything of importance.

"You heard me," she said nonchalantly and after receiving no answer from him, she continued. "You couldn't deliver, so they sought help elsewhere and _I_ wasn't incompetent."

She kept copying the page, biting back her smile as she waited for him to say something, but he didn't. He didn't say a word, so she glanced up.

"Don't do that," she almost stuttered.

"Do what?"

"Look at me like that."

"Like what?" he countered teasingly.

He stared at her with that look in his eyes again and even though it freaked her out, she couldn't help but let him hold her gaze so she could study it a little more.

Their little stare-downs just kept getting more intense and right now, his eye contact was burning. She was sure that if she closed her eyes, she'd see them still, permanently burned into her retinas.

"Like that..." she said quietly. He smiled at her like he had some kind of secret then leaned back against the step to let her finish writing unwatched.

Every now and then, smoke would blow into her face and make her gag.

"Great," she sighed into her journal, annoyed by another assault on her nose.

"Be specific, Emma. So many things can be great—for instance, a date _with me_."

"I was talking about your wonderful aroma of burning tobacco."

"Long walks on the beach _with me._ "

"A smack upside the head _from me._ "

"Romantic dinner date, Lady and the Tramp style, _with me_. Although, sorry, love. I'm definitely not the tramp in this version, so…"

She sat up and, as she had said, smacked him upside the head, but chuckled doing it.

"Your sense of humor could use some improvement. Oh! Going to a comedy club _with me_."

"You really don't give up."

"Nope. Where was I? Oh yes, dancing under the starlight _with me._ "

"Keep dreaming, buddy."

"Oh, I do," he winked and as he expected, another smack.

* * *

Across the field from Emma and Killian, Victor was running over to Ruby who had opted out of hanging out with her friends to just sit and read—yeah, unbelievable right? Well, so was having to sit there listening to Clarissa or Stephanie or Julia critiquing every person who walked by them. By the third, 'Ew, what is she wearing?' Ruby faked surprise and told them she forgot about her tutoring lesson.

"Ruby!" She looked up and a smile immediately appeared—and a real one, not that 'I have you under my spell' smile.

"Aren't you tired of me yet? I talked your ear off last night." He let out a short laugh, still panting a little from running.

"Eh, I like hearing what you have to say."

She could feel something on her shoulders; the weight of her selfishness—of what she was using Victor for—getting heavier with each revelation. Victor was a fun guy who was, yeah, a typical teenage boy as reflected in his jokes and comments, but he could blow you away with how perceptive, clever, and wise he could be at times.

He was making everything happen—he was fighting to be with her and Jefferson, well… He just was paying someone and expecting it to be done for him.

This was just another one of those moments sneaking up on her.

"Look, I know you're doing your girl thing with Mary Margaret today—which, again, thank you for that—but I was wondering if you'd want to meet up after school tomorrow. I can help you memorize that poem before the party. By the way, are you going?"

"The she-devil hasn't said anything yet." However, Emma was definitely staying out tomorrow until six-thirty which meant Ruby had freedom until six-thirty. She was supposed to go to Jefferson's for a little pre-party with all their friends, but for some reason, Victor's offer seemed more tempting.

She didn't get it, but Ruby always went with her gut so she rationalized it the best she could. She _did_ have to do it for homework, so choosing that instead of the party was actually very responsible of her. Yup. Also, it's not like she couldn't study at the park or with ice cream or maybe while she got a bite to eat afterwards. Conversations were fine, too, because she would have breaks in between everything to talk about non-school subjects. Tutoring sounded way better.

"Emma's got something going on tomorrow, so as long as I get home around six, I'll be fine," she smiled excitedly.

"Sounds awesome. Where's Emma going?"

"To this concert in the city with David." Victor got that look in his eye, the same one being reflected back in Ruby's; the wheels in her head turned just as fast as Victor's.

"Do you have idea where this concert is?" he asked innocently. She shook her head no.

"But the tickets in Emma's room may give us a clue or two," she smiled slyly. "Want to ditch and go raid it?"

After calling out to her father a few times from the front door, she declared it safe and empty. She grabbed Victor's hand and pulled him upstairs to Emma's room. He was so caught up in the fluttering of his heart and the tingling in his hand that it took him a minute to register what she'd said about searching on the opposite of the room. He moved over there and opened Emma's nightstand drawer and right as he was about to close it, he caught sight of a paper corner peeking out from inside a CD case.

He glanced over the cover and songs then opened up the case.

"Well, that's a good sign," he said to himself. Peeking out was Killian's note—wait, notes? He grinned. He knew he didn't have to worry about Killian. Apparently the guy was doing just fine.

He placed everything back just as it was and slid the drawer closed. He looked through all the random papers stacked in her bookcase and went through everything on her shelves.

"I didn't know your sister played any instruments," he said after opening up a silver jewelry box filled with a collection of guitar picks.

"Those were our mom's. It's just a bunch of plastic junk, but Emma stores it in there like it's sacred or something."

"So, does she play guitar, too?"

"I don't think so."

"What about anything else?"

"Um… I'm not sure."

While Victor and Ruby went through more of Emma's things, he asked questions and Ruby did her best to answer, but honestly, she didn't really know too much about her sister. They hadn't been close since they were kids.

"What about her birthday, is it coming up?"

"Nope. Already passed."

"Favorite color?"

"Black—like her soul." Ruby smirked, "Or like her panties."

"Huh?" Victor was indeed a teenage boy because his head snapped over to Ruby so fast she couldn't help but roll her eyes.

"Black lingerie means she's not an emotionless robot sent to destroy my life."

"I still don't get it."

"It means that my monster of a sister actually plans on hooking up someday, but I don't think your guy is that fearless. You can only pay a person to do so much," Ruby laughed meanly and opened another drawer. "Yes! I found them!"

"What? A matching bra?"

"The concert tickets, genius." She let Victor type down the all the information. He was saying something when Ruby's face froze. He knew the look on Ruby's face all too well. It was the same look Mary Margaret had been making for the last couple of weeks every time he said David was coming over.

Dad was home.

"Ruby?" her father called from the stairs, having seen her discarded bag at the bottom.

"My dad doesn't usually get home this early. Damn it! Of course of all days," she whispered back.

There was no way Victor could leave now. Her father was blocking the only route out, so she ushered him into her room, but pulled the door shut as soon as she heard him reach the top of the stairs.

"Ruby, what are you doing?" Gold asked. "Why aren't you in school?"

"I… I have cramps."

"Oh." Like any other man, her father started to shift uncomfortably.

"They're really really bad, too."

"Uh, do you need anything?" he asked awkwardly, not questioning her excuse.

"No, no. I'm going to just take a nap. You know, sleep off the pain."

"Yeah, alright. Well… Get better." He retreated back downstairs—but stayed in the living room. There was no way Victor was getting out now. She moved inside the room and locked the door, staring at him gravely.

"I think you're going to have to climb out the window," she said.

"Seriously? Actually, I've always wanted to try it—they're always doing it in the movies."

"There's no rewind in real life, so just don't break your neck, okay?"

"This is very Romeo and Juliet—"

"Yeah, they died. So maybe not such a good comparison."

It was daunting from the window, but it wasn't hard at all. It wasn't even that high now that he was at the bottom. Still, he wasn't planning on doing that again anytime soon. She tossed down his backpack and said she'd call him later.

On his way home, he forwarded the ticket info to Killian and got a text back almost immediately.

' _No,'_ Killian sent.

' _What? Why not?'_

' _It's a chick club.'_

' _You've heard of it?'_

' _I know a bartender there.'_

' _Awesome! Tickets are all sold out."_

' _What a shame.'_

' _No, ask them to get you in. Come on. It's the closest thing you can get to a date.'_

' _Only if you get Sunshine to nick Emma's locker combo.'_

In no time at all, Mary Margaret sent it over—Victor noted her lack of protest in getting it, like she didn't have any problem breaking into files now.

' _I've got it but I want to know what you're planning,'_ Victor sent.

' _You'll send it or I'm not going to that club.'_

Killian won that round and got the combination, preparing for his own _plan_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10 Things movie scenes! Here's a heads up of what I've got planned for the next few chapters:
> 
> Concert time (oh, yeah)
> 
> Party time (damn right)
> 
> Soon there will be the iconic stadium scene (*swoons just thinking about it*)


	7. Don't Mess with a Girl's Heart

Victor must've been the only person to ever climb the side of Ruby's house, and the thought made him smile with pride. So what if he wasn't exactly climbing _up_ to Ruby's window like the Romeo he felt he was at the moment? And who cares that he wasn't exactly professing his love, but instead running away from his Juliet's father? It was still a memorable experience for the both of them.

The intimacy of it all was lost on Ruby. She was too busy dodging her father's questions about going out later to meet Mary Margaret when she'd just taken the day off of school because she 'wasn't feeling well.'

"We're out of pain relievers," she said hurriedly, attempting to walk forward.

"Oh don't worry yourself, I can get them." Of course he was suspicious. Gold was always suspicious—of everyone and everything, but his daughter leaving without his watchful eye on her was something he'd always been wary of. Like a collector—it was more for himself than for her protection.

"Okay, but I need chocolate—" He was quick, a very smart man, and he wouldn't let her get off that easy.

"Not a problem," he cut her off, "Consider it done." Sometimes, however, Ruby was quicker.

"And tampons." That got him, stammering and all. Ruby won once again and set off to meet Mary Margaret who was sitting by herself on a small mall bench, idly staring at the beaded shimmering material of the prom dresses she'd never have the chance to wear at Storybrooke High's own dance, on display in front of her.

"That might be a bit too much for impressing David, but hey, go big or go home, right?" Ruby teased, popping up right beside her. Wasting no time, she reached for Mary Margaret's hand and dragged her throughout the building.

Ruby sure as hell wasn't a stranger to attention and talking about herself, happily offering up tidbits about this and that. She was, on the other hand, unfamiliar with probing questions that pierced through the surface of her programmed responses. Forced to delve deeper and ask her own self the reason behind her answers when Mary Margaret would continue the subject, Ruby learned more about herself in their outing than she had with her other friends during her entire two years in high school.

Mary Margaret had learned that Ruby loved the color green. Then she discovered it was because of a camping trip Ruby had taken with her family, when her mother was still alive and she was still on good terms with Emma, to the mountains at eight years old.

Four stores, shared stories, and enough belly-aching laughter to rival a good set of sit-ups, Mary Margaret folded the jacket she'd picked out over her arm and turned to face Ruby.

"I just want you to know how much I appreciate you helping me," she said. "And for listening to me talk your ear off about David for an entire hour." She'd gotten over her embarrassment within in the first half hour when Ruby started drilling her with questions, making light teases, and convincing her that she had such a great shot with David that this whole makeover was really for her instead of him.

"Like I said before, I knew we were going to be friends—here, try this one on." Ruby handed more hangers with dresses, shirts, skirts—anything that caught her eye to Mary Margaret who disappeared to change.

Leaning up against the fitting room doorway, she sent Victor an update—just another excuse to talk to each other—and smiled to herself at the realization that she now had two people in her life who didn't just hear her talk, but _listened_. Even better, she could actually confide in Mary Margaret uncensored, girl to girl.

' _Like the sister I've always wanted,'_ Ruby thought with a smirk, unable to resist the chance to insult her own.

* * *

The next day, Killian cursed his alarm clock just like every morning since he'd started regularly attending school, but today it was scheduled even earlier. He waited out the noise, too exhausted to even lift his hand to stop it. When the buzzer finally gave up, waiting silently until its next scheduled attack, his lips curled into a sleepy smile. This time he went into a dead sleep and couldn't hear the backups sound off at all.

"Killian. Killian," his uncle called until his nephew's head bobbed up from the pillow. "Killian, please just turn it off if you're not going to get up," the man begged from the doorway. His eyes widened in panic, a minute more to 'rest his eyes' turned into a little over half an hour.

"Oh bloody—" He struggled to get out of his tangle of sheets and almost fell out of bed when he finally broke free. Grabbing a bundle of clothes off his desk chair, he squeezed passed his uncle and into the hall.

"Where're you off to?" the man asked groggily, cringing at the sound of the bathroom door slamming shut.

"School!" he shouted from the other side.

"School…" He shook his head. "Not even seven in the goddamn morning and he's going to school."

* * *

In the parking lot, Emma shut off her phone, fearing that Killian would pop up beside her unannounced and see that she actually did enjoy the CD he'd gotten her, but she made it safely through the parking lot. Just not fast enough to get to her locker to grab her things.

' _I sleep through that class all the time anyway. One more day won't make a difference,'_ she thought. If only Killian had known because he clumsily tried to close her locker before the tough blonde dressed in her, today, black jacket came walking over. If there were any doubts about his attentions being genuine and honest, he was determined to squash it all today because enough was enough. Emma was different, she was special, and he wanted her to know that.

Unfortunately for Emma, being there without her things _did_ make a difference and as she sat there being overly scolded in front of a classroom of whispers and giggles at her, a bad mood set in. She felt far from special.

' _Necessary materials.'_ She forgot her textbook for Christ's sake.

Being reproached by teachers wasn't anything new, but what really set her off this time was being sent to Principal. Mill's office where she was handed her very own manuscript of 'The Bondage of Love.'

She shuddered and could only imagine what the cover was eventually going to look like. She'd been on her best behavior lately, too, in hope of avoiding becoming Mrs. Mill's blackmailed editor. Clutching the novel to her chest so that no one could take a peek at what Emma Swan was carrying around with her, she weaved in and out of the second period hall traffic to her locker. She needed to dispose of this as soon as possible.

' _Or,'_ she thought, _'Killian might get a good kick out of this—'_

Her train of thought broke when she took sight of a pink rose standing up against her books with a little note tied to the stem.

' _Since you won't go out on a date with me,_

_I thought I'd bring the date to you_

_(P.S. Didn't know what color you preferred)'_

Her head snapped up then side to side hoping to catch her 'date' fleeing the scene. She surveyed the crowd expecting to see her culprit, the only person determined enough to pull something like this, but he wasn't ducking away. There was no flash of that dark mop of hair that looked so soft and wind-tousled half of the time—

' _Stop it, Emma. Pull it together.'_

Instead, all she could see were a few strangers walking by, nosily glancing at the thick stack of pages pressed to her chest and the flower in her hand. He was probably going to class like _she_ should be doing. Shoving the manuscript in the back of her locker, she carefully leaned the flower to the side and closed the door on it, wondering just what exactly Killian had planned for their 'date.'

The best way to figure that out was return to the scene of the crime, but that wasn't so easy since she was supposed to be on the next floor up. She normally skipped stopping there in order to get to class without gasping and running like a madwoman, but she couldn't survive an hour of wondering what she'd missed—if she missed anything at all—waiting for her.

He didn't disappoint.

Next to the pink rose was a white one with a new notecard which she had started to read, but the warning bell—the one that chimed, 'You're all late. Run like hell,' snapped her back to reality. Just like everyone else still left in the corridor, she groaned and snapped off the piece of paper and shoved it in her pocket.

She made it by a millisecond, but still got a room full of stares and another teacher with her second disapproving look for the day. She walked in and went quietly to the back where she unfolded the note in her lap, making sure no one was looking.

' _Don't worry, there's more where that came from,_

_But I suppose we can check flowers off the list?'_

Oh god, there was a list. He had a list. She was going to receive a list. Emma shook her head and sat for that next hour, not listening to a word and instead anticipating her next unnecessary trip to her locker.

* * *

Prying eyes, curious whispers in the hall, and a yellow, red, purple, orange, and even _blue_ rose later, Emma tucked the gorgeous glimmering pendant, a dainty green gem smack dab in the middle, safely into her pocket and piled up his notes neatly to the side. The rest of the messages were just very Killian:

' _Are you swooning yet?'_

Smug.

' _Perhaps red? Still no? Bloody hell, you're hard to please. No worries, I'll keep trying.'_

Persistent.

' _I figured out your favorite: it's the blue one,_

_Matches my eyes don't you think?'_

Idiot.

But this present, his ' _How about green?'_ present to her was more than she expected. All of this was more than she'd ever expected because Emma had learned never to expect anyone to do anything for her. If she wanted magic, she'd have to make it herself, but here was Killian, doing his best to bring a little to her day. Of course her heart couldn't be bought with flowers and gifts, but it was definitely appreciated… and sweet… damn it, and charming and—

"Why do you have a mini-bouquet in your locker?" David asked from behind, eyeing the blooming bunch just like everyone else who walked by.

"I thought it needed some sprucing up."

"Ha. Funny, Emma," David said, picking up Killian's latest note. "Where'd they come from?"

"A garden," she deadpanned. Emma plucked the card from his hand.

" _Who_ are they from?" he asked, willingly sinking deeper and deeper into denial. He knew where they came from, but he was hoping Emma would say anyone other than _him_.

"Mary Margaret. They're from Mary Margaret. Come on, who do you think?"

"Well, what's it say?" he asked. She turned the notecard away from him to inspect it first then, disappointed at the message, let him see it.

' _Best stick with your friend today, love_

_I'll be spending lunch jumping through fiery hoops for this girl I quite fancy_

_Don't miss me too much'_

"Fantastic, your stalker broke into your locker. There's nothing this guy won't do is there?" David grumbled, leaning up against the wall.

"Guess so," Emma replied flatly.

"Hey, what's wrong? You seem kind of down."

"I just…" What was wrong with her? Did his absence really affect her this much? Or was it that damned manuscript, the one she really didn't want to have to read, in her left hand? The manuscript she was planning to show Killian right now. "Bad day. Teachers have been on my ass all morning," she lied.

"Concert-day, right? So cheer-up and…" he paused, tilting his head sideways, eyes narrowing Killian's script. "Why does the back say 'To Dave'?"

"There's something for you on here, too."

Emma handed him the card and on the back was a little tip for David:

' _Don't stare so much at her, mate. Makes her nervous'_

"Emma! You told him? _Him?!"_

"I didn't tell anyone! He must've figured it out." Killian did figure it out, a long time ago. Victor always thought his secret code with Mary Margaret was sneaky, but after that first time he winked at her in the hall—the first day Mary Margaret had actually spoken to David—well, how could you _not_ know? The two lovebirds practically radiated with sunshine and rainbows when they were together.

"Wait. Wait, what?! They figured it out!"

"We don't know that. Calm down. Killian doesn't gossip." David was about to retort something along the lines of, 'Oh, so you know him now,' but Emma beat him to the punch, not wanting to deal with anymore today. "Who cares?! David, are you forgetting that she _does_ like you?"

"You're right, you're right. I just—" David went silent and for good reason. Walking straight down the center of the hall, arm-in-arm with Ruby, was Mary Margaret, but this wasn't the same Mary Margaret. Not at all.

She still had the cardigan, but she looked far from a school teacher now. She'd ditched the Mary Janes for boots that looked strikingly like a pair that Emma owned. She'd traded tights for jeans and Miss Top-Button was now two buttons undone. Not to mention her hair which, normally swept very precisely and neatly to the side, looked like the windy day outside had effortlessly blown each strand perfectly to frame her face—no doubt the intensive work of Ruby's magic touch though. And was that lip gloss?

For David, it was like watching everything in slow motion, each of her confident steps making his jaw drop lower. All of this with Victor in tow, waving at them from behind the girls.

"Mary Margaret," Emma said, stunned and wide-eyed. "Wow. You look good. You look great."

"Thank you!" the girl smiled widely.

"She does, doesn't she? Right, David?" Ruby chimed in with a wide smile of her own.

"Y-yeah, you look very pretty. I mean—" he started to panic, feeling his ears burning, "Not that you don't look it all the time! It's just that now you—different—but different is really nice, too…" He cursed himself for stuttering.

Emma cringed at David while Mary Margaret blushed and Victor and Ruby stood there in victory. Making a boy stutter—that was a good sign which Ruby would have to explain to the pink-cheeked girl later.

The group moved over and settled on the steps of the stairwell, but when Ruby mentioned being thirsty, Victor immediately picked up on her request for girl time and suggested David come along to help him with ones for Emma and Mary Margaret, too.

"Those boots look so familiar," Emma began curiously. "I think I have a pair just like them except I scuffed up the heel on the left…" She could see the scuff.

"Oh, yeah, those are yours. I told Mary Margaret she could borrow them. All of mine were too big, and you guys are the same size so it all worked out," Ruby shrugged.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry Emma," Mary Margaret said, looking at Emma apologetically. "If I had known, I wouldn't have taken your—I'm sorry,"

"Don't apologize, it's alright," Emma said, noticing how wrong it felt, how much it twisted her stomach into knots to see Mary Margaret's good mood dampened so quickly and easily over her.

"After school, I'll give them right back," she replied.

"They're yours," Emma said.

"What?"

"Yeah, they look so much better on you than they ever did on me," Emma smiled _._ It was quiet between the three girls until Ruby's resolve to be civil went up in smoke.

"Mary Margaret, I'm impressed. It's not every day that the ice queen graces anyone with something other than an attitude."

Emma glared at her and was ready to spit out an insult right back, but Mary Margaret, eyes down at her lap, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, gave a short laugh.

"Wow, I've just… I've never had so many nice friends before," the girl said in awe at all the attention she'd received in just the last two days.

And suddenly Emma's day grew a little brighter. Flowers, even jewelry, and a friend all in one day? _Emma Swan_ didn't need friends… but she never said she didn't want them.

Mary Margaret impressed Emma even more when she told off her pom-pom arch nemesis after making a snide comment about her new style when passing by.

' _Gotta watch out for the quiet ones,'_ Emma and Ruby both thought proudly.

Mary Margaret's retort didn't go unpunished though, and when fifth period came around, Emma and David stopped to see what all the fuss was about in the hall. People happily moved out of the way for Emma Swan and David, and finally in front of the group of students, they saw that retaliation in bright red paint.

Pom-Pom had spray-painted ' _SLUT'_ right across Mary Margaret's locker, and hoping to get it off before Mary Margaret could see, David and Emma turned to the crowd.

"There's nothing to see here, move it along," David commanded in a strong booming voice that made a majority scurry off. The rest, Emma handled.

"You heard him," she arched an eyebrow and crossed her arms. "I suggest you all move before I make you move—I've already been to Mills' today and I don't mind going a second time." That got them, and everyone dispersed except for the locker owner who turned her back to the scene and ran away.

"Maybe I should…" David said.

"No, I'll go. You take care of this, okay? Go get the janitor." They nodded and Emma set off to find Mary Margaret.

* * *

Muffled sobs still echoed in the small bathroom and the few girls meanly giggling ran off as soon as they saw Emma come in.

"Mary Margaret?" she called softly, her eyebrows furrowed together while she stood outside the locked stall door.

Mary Margaret didn't say anything, but from the silence that overtook the bathroom, Emma knew that meant her crying had only gotten deeper. There were very few things that hurt more, physically and emotionally, than silent-crying. It stabbed at your gut, squeezed your lungs until nothing could come out, tightened your throat, broke your heart, and drained every bit of self-worth and esteem out of you. Yeah, Emma knew the feeling all too well.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Emma frowned, her palm resting flat on the door as she tilted her head to hear better.

"No," Mary Margaret squeaked out, trying to sound calm.

"…Do you want to be left alone?"

"No," she said, followed by the echo of a sharp intake of breath.

"Okay," Emma whispered and lifted herself up onto the counter across the stall and rested her head back against the mirror. This is why she hated this school. It was cruel to kind people like Mary Margaret; people who didn't deserve to be treated this way.

There _were_ people, Emma's temper encouraged, who _did_ though which was why she was back in Mrs. Mills' office later instead of in her next class.

"You punched a student in the face. Are you going to tell me that you were educating this one, too?" Regina asked.

"No. This time I just wanted to punch her in the face."

"Miss Swan," Regina closed her eyes, resting her elbows on her desk and rubbing her temples. "You're lucky I like you—"

"Yeah, sure," Emma mumbled to herself.

"As my first choice in editor."

' _Ah, there we go.'_

"Speaking of," Regina smiled, tossing aside Emma's offense and the phone calls she would have to make to both their parents—parent, in Emma's case, and god, how Regina hatedtalking to that Gold. "How's it coming along?"

"…You just gave it to me today."

"Oh, well I figured you'd have read it during lunch."

"Yeah, I was busy."

"That's ridiculous. With a novel like mine you'll make time, trust me." The bell rang and signaled Emma's release, but before she could sling her bag over her shoulder, Mrs. Mills gave her one last warning, "I'm having the Superintendent visit next week, and none of your antics will be tolerated. Are we clear?"

"Crystal."

* * *

With Mary Margaret's spirits low, that same force from before which had possessed Emma to comfort her kicked in and it was settled. David was going to give up his ticket to let the girls have their fun and forget about the mess back at school. Before Emma could even fantasize about that concert though, she had to get through her last class of the day.

As she did every day, she scanned the back row to see if Killian was slumped down in one of the desks, but like all the others, he wasn't there. Her teacher Mrs. Lucas was there though, rifling through the old worn desk, stacks of files, and her briefcase. Whatever she was looking for was eluding her and Emma prayed it was the test she wasn't prepared for.

Up on the chalkboard, someone had quickly scrawled, 'Underneath,' and with Mrs. Lucas preoccupied, Emma reached underneath her chair, hoping she wasn't going to touch some crusted bubble gum, and felt another one of Killian's notes taped to the bottom of her chair—and an umbrella? A miniature child's umbrella with simple little white swans around the rim was lying in the book rack.

' _Tests ruin dates, don't you think?_

_Romantic gesture: check'_

As quickly as she read it, the shrill of fire alarms rang throughout every building, hall, and room on campus. The sprinkler system was triggered and showered down on Emma's class.

"Everyone to the yard! Single-file line—Jefferson, knock it off!" Mrs. Lucas yelled, irritated by the interruption, but deadly serious as if she were leading them into a battlefield.

Emma trailed slowly behind everyone, umbrella in hand, and even though she didn't use it—because walking the halls with an umbrella on an otherwise dry and hot day outside when the fire alarm was triggered might give people the wrong idea—she relished the cool water, her savior, spraying from above and leaving her hair a sopping wet mess.

"Looks like rain, Swan," Killian yelled over from the library entrance down the hall.

"Good thing I'm always prepared!" she yelled back, her words almost getting lost in the shrieks and screams from the other students crowding the hall.

Killian gave a slight bow right before being ushered in the opposite direction and Emma followed the rest of her class. By the time the fire department had arrived, the alarms had been reset, Principals Mills' mood had soured, and Mrs. Lucas had announced the new test date, it was only ten minutes until three o'clock and they were released early.

Emma went to gather her treasures stored away in her locker and found the last note of the day.

' _If you think that was great, just wait until the real fun starts_

_See you soon'_

* * *

David was determined to get into that concert. He tried to track down a scalper for spare tickets; he was willing to pay whatever outrageous price they came up with, he didn't care, but no such luck. The show was sold out through and through and no one was getting in there.

Except for one person.

"Jones? What are you doing here?" David asked, not surprised even in the slightest.

"Isn't it obvious? I love listening to chicks who can't play their instruments." David stopped right in front of Killian who rolled his eyes. He didn't want to be here, but Emma was in there, so he _had_ to be in there, too. Painful as this particular part was, they were on a date after all.

"They know how to play their instruments," David said defensively. "They're a great band—besides, _Emma_ likes them which means you're supposed to _pretend_ to like them, isn't that right?" David gave Killian a shove back away from the roped off entrance.

"Actually, no." Killian practiced some restraint and tried to move passed David, "It isn't."

"Oh, really."

"Really. Which is why it is my every intention to get in there and make my disapproval known."

"There's no way you can get—"

"Jones!" a heavyset young man called from just inside the doorway. "It's great to see you!"

"Thanks for doing this, mate," Killian smiled.

"Listen, if you ever want to see a gig here, just get a hold of me." When the guy stepped back from Killian, he noticed with much enthusiasm David standing there. "And this is a friend of yours?"

Killian could see the glint in David's eye, a little light bulb flicking on which could only mean one thing: David just saw his way into the show and closer to Mary Margaret. Before Killian could get a word in, David went to shake hands and introduce himself.

"Yes! I'm David, it's nice to meet you."

' _Yeah, we're mates alright. Braid each other's hair and everything,'_ Killian thought.

"William," he smiled, " William Smee. Any friend of Jone's is a friend of mine. Alright, let's get you two inside, the opening band just started up about five minutes ago."

David followed right behind Smee and passed the ropes that had been impenetrable just a minute ago.

"So, _mate_ , Killian said, walking alongside David.

"I'm not your mate."

"I'm hurt, after the advice I gave to you, too."

"Don't even. We both know you did that to look good in front of Emma."

"I did that because you needed some desperate help with your girl."

"I don't _need_ anything from you, Jones," David stopped and narrowed his eyes at him.

"Just like you didn't _need_ me to get you in here just now?"

"Jones!" Smee called, breaking the stare down between the two boys. "I have to head back. Let me know if you need anything, I'll be at the bar."

"You can stay away from the bothof them," David said.

"Maybe Emma doesn't want me to stay away from her."

"Now it's time for me to give _you_ some advice. I know all about you, _Killian Jones,_ and Emma's never going to waste her time on you."

"Like I said, maybe that's not what Emma _wants—_ "

"She deserves better and you know it." David said at last and without waiting for Killian's reaction, he walked away to find the girls.

Killian made his way up to the balcony above the ground floor. He tried to tell himself that David was wrong, that he was worthy. He was more than just what everyone thought they knew about him, but of course, there was that small part of him that wondered if David was right.

Then he found her in the crowd. He saw that beautiful strong girl spinning and jumping away to the music just like she danced through his thoughts. She wore a smile that made him smile, too, and with her eyes closed and blonde hair spilling over her shoulders, she was a goddess. Killian was aware that he wasn't the only person who had noticed.

He wanted to go down there, but with Mary Margaret and David crowding around her, he didn't have a chance of even getting near her. There he was, _the_ Killian Jones _,_ as David reminded him _,_ in a club, leaning against the railing with beautiful girls strutting by him, praying and wishing for him to come over and ask them to dance. But deep down, he was just Killian; a boy who was no good, wishing that somehow he could be enough for her.

And then it happened. Emma opened her eyes and scanned the floor then up at the balcony and their eyes met. He finally let out the breath he'd been holding when he saw the relief on her face, and smiled when he saw how she lit up, too.

"You guys," she shouted over to Mary Margaret and David, "I'm kind of thirsty, want anything?"

"Water, please! But I'll go with you!" Mary Margaret shouted back, desperate for a way out of being left alone with David.

"No! I mean," she glanced over at Killian who was already walking toward the back of the club, "I can get it, you two just keep dancing. Be right back!"

He made his way down the stairs and toward the tables in the back. He sat there, perched on the edge of his seat with two water bottles.

"Swan, what a surprise," he smiled.

"Cut the crap, Killian," she shook her head, smiling back.

"So, how's our date going?"

"This isn't a date."

"Are you sure? Seems like a date to me, I mean, we're at a concert sharing a drink." He gestured to the chair next to him.

"You're ridiculous," she said and sat down, taking one of the bottles. "How long have you been here?"

"Not long, but I probably won't be staying too long either."

"Oh right, they don't allow smoking in here. Aren't you itching to decay your lungs outside?"

"I quit," he fished out and waved a packet of nicotine gum. "Apparently they're bad."

"Really now?"

"Yup," he shrugged. "Girls nowadays don't want to make out with a guy who has cigarette breath. Want to test out the new smoke-free Killian?"

"Yeah, definitely ridiculous." The music started up again.

"What?" he shouted.

"You're too much!"

"What are you talking about? I'm adorable. Some would say extremely attractive as well."

"Hm, you don't strike me as either," she shouted back.

"What was that?" he teased. "You find me striking?"

"What? No! I didn't say that! I…" Emma just pressed her lips into a small smile and shook her head. "I have to give you credit. I know this must be torture for you."

"No, I'm enjoying the… ambiance."

"You hate it," she laughed.

"I don't _hate_ it, but—"

"It's not what you normally listen to," Emma finished for him.

"And here I thought that CD had been tossed into a corner with the plastic intact."

"I may have listened to a few songs."

"And what did you think?"

"It's not something I would've picked out, but I guess I like it."

"'Guess you like it.' Please, you know you loved it."

She didn't deny it and as they sat there, watching the glamorous bleached blonde walk around the stage, Emma much preferred _this_ to being a third wheel. She just preferred being here—with Killian.

"So, Swan, should I pick you up at nine or nine-thirty?"

"For what?"

"Part three of our date. Nine then?"

"Three? What makes you think this is even the second?"

"Well this is a concert, and you _are_ hanging out _with me_ ," he drew it out with the same tone as the day before and she had to laugh.

"I came to get water, that's all."

"Then why'd you stay?"

"I was being polite, now if you'll excuse me, I have a band to freak out over," she said and got up from her seat, leaving her empty bottle and taking the other with her. She whipped herself around when she felt a tug at her hand. "What are you doing?"

"It's called dancing." They stared at each other until the both of them felt their hands burning.

"Alright, I'm game," she smirked, but their moment was cut short by David.

"I thought I told you to leave her alone."

"David," Mary Margaret called, pulling his arm back. His expression softened like he didn't just catch Killian Jones moving in on his best friend.

"Yeah David, it's fine. Killian and I were just—" Emma stopped when she felt a set of lips give her hand a light kiss.

"See you at nine," he said to her and disappeared toward the exit.

Emma felt a lot of things—shock, her heart pumping fast enough to power an entire city, and a little resentment toward David who, now content that Killian was nowhere to be seen, was making googly eyes at Mary Margaret. The three of them made their way back to the front and jumped around to their favorite band, but somewhere between the third and fourth song, Emma realized that she was dancing alone; the two lovebirds saw only each other.

"Alright guys," the lead singer rasped out, her voice slightly hoarse. "This is for a new friend of mine who asked me to dedicate this song to a very special girl he calls Beautiful." The audience 'oohed and awed,' some laughed, and some smiled brightly hoping the special announcement was meant for them.

"Seriously?!" David shouted out in frustration, turning all around looking to see if Killian was still there.

"Yes!" Emma shouted back happily knowing she was the real Beautiful, "Seriously!"

This song was for her. Her favorite band was playing this song for her and though this was the absolute coolest thing she could think of happening at this concert, she still felt a pang of jealousy hit her looking at Mary Margaret and David so happy. There was a little bit of longing, too, for the boy who had kissed her hand. She didn't have anyone else to dance with, so she closed her eyes and let go.

Little did she know that Killian hadn't left, he had gone up to the second floor again, trying to catch her reaction.

Tracking down and getting in with the band seemed practically impossible, but not if you knew the right people. Luckily, a few favors collected and a few promise made, he had managed to meet them, and seeing the way Emma danced with no reservations, forgetting who she was and all of the problems weighing her down, it was worth all the fiery hoops he had to jump through earlier.

There in that buzzing crowd, illuminated by blue, green, and purple beams of light, she was Just-Emma—with nothing to prove and no one to put on a show for. He didn't want the show anyway because he liked her the way she was, and he was kind of sure that she felt the same way, too, despite what David had said.

After the song ended, he decided it was time to go and that he'd stop by the beach then maybe go home for a bit. He had four hours to kill which was plenty of time for Emma to dance herself to near exhaustion and get a slight ring in her ears.

* * *

David was the first to be dropped off and walked up his house's pathway to recuperate before the party. This gave the girls some time to talk about the concert, the band, their tastes in music, but more important, Emma's observation of how much fun Mary Margaret and David seemed to be having with each other. Mary Margaret, of course, blushed and gave humble round-about responses that made Emma smirk until the tiny short-haired girl in love locked herself away in her room, squealing about David and how alive she felt now; everything that had happened at school now the furthest thing from her mind.

Emma was greeted—well, more accurately hounded—by a very desperate Ruby who'd returned from her afternoon out with Victor and was still left clueless about Emma's decision to go. All the while, their father sat happily for a change with a newspaper at the dining room table listening to the girls squabble about Ruby being able to 'live her life without such a freak of a sister ruining it.'

Emma, too, locked herself in her room, successfully escaping Ruby's whining, and collapsed onto her bed, mentally preparing herself for a night of teenage chaos.

Victor was prepping himself for an evening of debauchery with a grin that almost matched David's.

Ruby was begging her father for permission to go to the party without her wretched older sister.

Graham was picking up a couple kegs.

And Jefferson was combing back his hair with the utmost attention to detail.

* * *

Pulling into the driveway, Killian was still entertaining the thoughts that had followed him from the beach.

He hadn't been in that district for very long, and he didn't know anything really about her past—Emma _Gold_ , Victor told him. He hadn't even known anything about the infamous _Emma Swan_ until recently. She was _in his class_ for god's sake and he hadn't even noticed. Then again, as Emma had put it, you can't see what you're not looking for.

Still, Killian couldn't understand how she'd never caught his eye. Really, how could he not notice the way she incessantly drummed her nails against her books, her journals, the side of her leg? And then there was the way she impatiently threw her hair up and how frustrated she'd get when she couldn't find her hair tie, like she was incapable of focusing with all that brilliant hair fluttering around her face.

Or how her sometimes green, sometimes gray-colored irises lit up like there was an actual light source behind them. When you got her fired up, they blazed—or even whenever he popped up beside her which he was very pleased with himself about. Or how she just couldn't manage to keep the left corner of her lips from quirking up when she arched that eyebrow of hers at him, trying to look unamused, but failing to convince him.

Emphasis on 'try' now because it was getting harder for her to act so unaffected by his company. What she did now was just turn her head away from him to hide that tiny smile, pretending there was something more interesting in the distance. And then there was also that little freckle at the base of her neck that could only really be seen when she craned her neck in doing so. Oh, or how about when she—

He snapped back out of his trance, still idly sitting in his car in the driveway, and unbuckled the seatbelt; his head filled with the images of the girl who'd been plaguing at one point and now gracing his thoughts.

Emma really was beautiful and, teasing or not, the nickname suited her, but the real hypnosis was in what she thought, what she said, that radiance she exuded when she let you get in close enough to feel it, and, most of all, that look of recognition she always had whenever she managed to coax him into talking about himself— _really_ talk about himself. It was intense being around her, but came naturally and effortless all the same.

Of course he still put on a show here and there out of habit, but she saw through it just as he saw through hers and their conversations usually teetered between light hearted teasing and cutting straight to the chase.

They understood each other and there was no better way to put it.

He'd never felt that kind of certainty of knowing he didn't really have to explain himself, but he wondered if she had.

Was there someone else who ever basked in her light? What was he like? How did he compare to this person? Did they notice these little details that were so uniquely Emma, too? Because if they didn't, then the guy wasn't worth a damn.

Did that overbearing friend of hers, Dave, like them? Or did he narrow his eyes at this guy, too?

He slowly sorted through his keys and tried to build an image of what this person may have looked like—if he existed. He imagined what this person would've looked like sitting with Emma. Maybe even under that tree she loved so much.

He shook his head, shaking the jealousy out, before greeting his uncle and throwing this book bag down near the door. Heading toward the kitchen, he followed the delicious scent wafting from the open box on the counter.

"So, someone's been going to school, I see," his uncle said, sitting on the couch, still working on finishing the three slices he'd immediately grabbed—three slices to start with.

"Eh," Killian shrugged, "it's nothing. Just too bored at home all day."

"Bullshit, you've got a girl." Killian froze then fumbled with his plate to catch the pizza slice starting to slide off. It was an awkward mess and his uncle just laughed, "Caught ya," then proceeded to tease 'little Killy' for a good five minutes, making Killian properly and thoroughly irritated.

"Yeah, well. It's not like that," he finally said, plopping down in the armchair, staring at the commercial playing.

"Oh really. Then what's it like, Killy?"

"The truth?" Killian looked his uncle straight in the eye, preparing for the _Killian Jones_ show and bluntly continued, "I'm distracting her so that her younger sister can date a friend of mine." It wasn't the truth, not anymore—it hadn't been for very long in the beginning either, but his uncle stared him down, not dismissing a single word he'd said.

"I'll admit I'm a bastard in more ways than one, Killian, but I've never played with a girl's heart. I expect you to do the same. There's a code and any _man_ who doesn't follow that code doesn't deserve shit."

Killian didn't say anything back and his uncle was content with that. Silence was good—it meant it was sinking into that thick-skull of his nephew's.

Killian took another bite and tried to concentrate on the TV, but it was no good. Suddenly the crust tasted like cardboard and the show that the TV had been tuned to was too stupid for him to pay attention to.

* * *

Gold reclined on the couch. It was times like these—when the girls weren't trying to pull each other's hair out—when he could really appreciate the simple pleasures of watching the news in a peaceful, quiet house…

Too quiet.

He looked back over his shoulder and saw Ruby tiptoeing to the front door, high heels in hand.

"Should've used the window, dearie."

"Hey, dad!" Ruby flashed her magical smile, but he wasn't falling for it.

"Don't, 'hey dad' me," he cocked his head to the side and mimicked her. "And where do you think you're sneaking off to?"

"Just going over to a friend's house to study."

"Right, right. Do those shoes help boost circulation to your brain?"

"It's only a party," she sighed in defeat and rolled her eyes.

"And hell is just a sauna."

"Hey, dad," Emma sighed as well, grabbing her jacket off the rack. "Bye, dad."

"Where are you going?"

"A lame party."

Gold didn't even have enough time to process what his eldest daughter was saying. Emma wanted to submerse herself in a house full of her peers? He couldn't believe it.

"I think I recall you saying that if Emma goes, then I'm allowed to go," Ruby said triumphantly.

Ruby giggled excitedly and ran out the door ahead of Emma before her father could snap out of his shock and tell her otherwise. She practically shoved Killian to the side on her way out.

"You're here," she said.

"It's eight-thirty, I'm early. Ready to go? I'll drive."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it begins.


	8. Just Kiss the Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey lovelies! Can you say Frankenwolf and Snowing?! You'll love it if you love these babies. Also, Captain Charming anyone?

Graham's house was huge, built with old money. As opposed to Jefferson who flaunted his wealth, you couldn't really tell any of this by the way Graham carried and presented himself, yet this place was the closest thing that the area had to a mansion. With his parents always touring one country or another, he practically raised himself in that big old house. He could do anything and everything he wanted, the only condition set by Mr. and Mrs. Humbert was that when they finally returned home, they wouldn't see any of the evidence.

He'd been throwing these crazy parties every year now since junior high and with each year, each became wilder than the last, but he was an experienced pro. Broken window? Replaceable, an unnoticed charge in his family's bank account. A professional after-party cleaning crew? On speed-dial. Noise regulation? Well it was a good thing this place was far outside Storybrooke's 'downtown'—if you could call it that—and on the edge of the woods now, wasn't it?

Being a senior—about to graduate and leave this small town for an adventure of his own—this had to be the biggest and most unbelievable celebration of them all, and just two hours into the evening, it had already lived up to the hype. The house was filled to the brim with students, booze, and music. The smell of weed filtered through the windows and people spilled out from every open door and balcony.

To Killian, it looked like just another rager.

To Emma, it looked like hell without the flames.

She pouted and didn't move to unbuckle her seat belt when they finally came to a stop across the green stretch separating them from the debauchery.

"Need a hand with that, love?" Killian teased, hoping she'd crack at least a small smile, but Emma just blinked and continued to stare through the vinyl dashboard in front of her.

"Let's get this over with," she finally muttered, more to herself than him, and exited the car, already starting toward the house without waiting for him.

* * *

She reached the entrance, with its set of intricately carved double doors, but the happy little flowers, vines, and leaves twisting in the wood were the only cheerful things to greet her. Trying to calm her nerves, she gave herself a little pep talk to convince herself that it was only a party and not a congregation of people who didn't like her—no, despised her—feared and disapproved of her—didn't want her here—

' _You're here for David. You're here for David. You're here for—'_ A girl nodded her head in Emma's direction. The whole group looked over and when they realized it was Emma standing at the door, it was just one eye roll and sneer after another in a wave of attitude. _'Oh hell no. Nope. I can't do this sober.'_ She was a circus attraction.

"You alright there, Swan?" Finally at her side again, Killian spoke into her ear, still barely able to make out his voice with the jumble of music, talking, and yelling around them. Her gaze snapped up to his and she felt the tight dread in her chest fall away. She had an ally, a friend, and a lot more than she thought she'd have when envisioning this night—which had been sitting all by her lonesome while watching a lovestruck David chase after Mary Margaret.

"I'm fine, I just—" Emma paused. She swore she just heard her name from the laughing jocks crowding around the speakers to her left. "I need something to drink."

"As you wish," said Killian. She gave him a grateful smile, feeling a little more at ease though standing alone knowing that her date—yes, that's right, _date_ —would be back for her soon.

When he did make it through the crowd and back, Emma wasn't there anymore.

"Killian," someone shouted, but it was only Victor, stopped halfway down the staircase and leaning over the railing. "You made it, great! Hey, have you seen Ruby?"

"No. Have you seen Emma?" Killian said.

"No," Victor replied, his interest somewhere else now. "Catch you later."

Victor's mind was preoccupied by only one of the sisters, and since that sister was already here in this grand labyrinth, Victor returned back upstairs without even a wandering thought about Emma and left Killian standing there in the middle of a crowd.

Their 'date' had gone so well, and though there were a few unprecedented setbacks like at the concert, they were hitting it off. Weren't they? Now Killian Jones standing awkwardly with two drinks while his date disappeared…? With that blow, his ego bruised a little.

' _There's a first time for everything I suppose,'_ he thought and swallowed back his pride to set off to find his Swan.

* * *

Almost forty minutes later and still no luck, Killian was more than irritated and tired of this place. He had to peel himself away from _three_ girls, overconfident and spilling their plastic cups of liquid courage on him; had to avoid fights with said girls' jealous boyfriends; and all the while resisting the urge to light up a cigarette like half the people in the room.

A tray of shot glasses floated passed him, but he didn't even glance, his eyes scouring over the crowd looking for a blonde set of curls.

' _Where'd she go? Why did she go?,'_ he thought, frustrated and a little worried, too. _'Is she okay? Is some idiot trying to manhandle her—'_ Like what he was witnessing in front of him right now.

Mary Margaret was trying to escape through the nearest doorway, but someone kept snaking his arm around her waist and stopping her—and it wasn't David.

" _Please_ ," her innate politeness at its near end. "Let go of me," she punctuated each word with a threatening hiss.

"Come on, girls like you get all dressed up for one reason—so what's wrong with me?" the boy slurred, the stench of alcohol on his breath making her want to choke.

"I said." She gritted through her teeth. "Let—go!" She pulled her elbow forward and slammed it back into his ribs.

He yelped and cursed, recovering a lot quicker than she thought he would, and though Mary Margaret wasn't weak, this guy was a giant compared to her. He barely budged when she kicked herself up in the air, flailing around hoping to knock him off balance or get someone's attention which, of course, no one seemed to care.

She was just about to twist around and knee him in the balls when she felt a tug. Killian tucked her behind him while his other hand yanked a fistful of the boy's shirt and sent him stumbling back into the corner. Before Killian could even turn around to ask how Mary Margaret was doing, the drunken boy started swinging at him. That is, until a fist came mercilessly down on the boy's jaw.

Taking Mary Margaret's outstretched hand, David, appearing out of nowhere like some Prince Charming ready to save the day, said, "I think I'll take it from here." But from his tone, Killian's efforts were acknowledged. Killian could feel the way the couple bore their surprised eyes into him and he even started to feel a little self-conscious, really rare for him.

"If you'll excuse me," Killian said and started to back away. "There's someone I… have to… find…" His words trailed off and David and Mary Margaret's stares shot over to the dining room in back of them.

David, Mary Margaret, and Killian in the doorway; Victor, raising his cup from inside the room; and Ruby, leaning over the railing above, all stopped and stared.

From the cheers erupting in the dining room, Killian had finally found Emma.

On top of the dining room table.

Dancing—and pretty well, too.

"Bloody hell."

"David, what do we—should we stop her?!"

"Emma! Emma, get down from there!"

"You know, we're not really related," Ruby laughed, trying to pry her friends' attention away.

"Yeah! Go Emma! Show us what you got!" Victor shouted, running over with a huge grin plastered on his face to cheer with the people crowding around the table.

Everyone, but Ruby—and Victor who was too busy spurring Emma to keep going—were all wondering what the hell had happened in the last hour.

* * *

"Emma!" Graham shouted from atop the balcony looking over the main room moments after Killian had disappeared into the kitchen bar.

"Hi!" she smiled back, but it was gone the second she saw Ruby, sipping her drink and zoning out, and Jefferson, prattling on about himself most likely, and slipping that hand of his further down along the curve of her little sister's waist.

She marched over and jerked her sister away. "You're coming with me," Emma said with a grimace.

"Hey!" Ruby shouted at her. "Let go of me, control freak."

"You need to stay away from him," Emma warned.

"You can't tell me what I can or can't do."

"He's vile. You really want to spend time with someone like that? Come on, Ruby, I know you're better than that."

"Can you stop judging me for one second? God. Go back to your little boyfriend and leave me—"

"What? With _yours_? I'm not stupid, Ruby."

"Clearly you are," Ruby laughed out, thinking about her great afternoon with Victor. "You don't know anything about me, and if I want to hang out with this person or that person or _even Jefferson_ , that's my business." Really, the only reason why she was putting up with Jefferson right now was because they needed it for show, to keep him unsuspecting—or so she told herself.

"Look, I don't mean this to sound harsh, but he doesn't really like you, okay? He's just playing you, trying to piss me off."

Ruby shot her an evil look. "Always you, you, you. 'Your sister this; your sister that,'" Ruby mimicked her friends. "I'm so done with this right now. Stop hating me just because people actually care about me. Now scamper off and get a life so I can live mine." Emma didn't have the chance to respond as Jefferson swooped in and placed his hand at the small of Ruby's back, guiding her away.

"Excuse me, Emma, but I'm going to have to take _my_ date back," he said and slithered away with her sister.

"Fuck!" she exploded in frustration, earning her a few looks, but she didn't care. Her little sister was being groped up just a room away. She was at a party that she never wanted to be at in the first place. She didn't know where David was and felt guilty for even thinking about taking him away from Mary Margaret and making this night about her. To top it all off, now Killian was going to take one look at her and know something was wrong, and she didn't want understanding. Emma didn't want to talk about it; she just wanted to push it all out of her mind for one damn second. She plopped down on the couch and a tray of shot glasses floated passed her.

' _If that's not a sign, I don't know what is.'_

Way too much vodka later, there she was, dancing on top of the table to a throwback song from junior high.

She closed her eyes, moving her body in time with the beat, and spun around… and around… twirling this way and that way with the urging of the crowd, but crap, she was getting dizzy, way too dizzy, until she felt something cold and hard hit her head; something that felt oddly like the point of a chandelier. Then the sensation of falling, and finally, warm strong arms catching her from below.

Killian lifted her from the table and set her down, but she couldn't even stand upright anymore. He started to usher her out of the room.

"I want to go back and dance," she whined, eyes still closed, listening to the choir of 'boo's sent in Killian's direction.

"I don't think that's a good idea right now, lass."

"What's with the goddamn 'lass' thing? For fuck's sake, where the hell do you think you are?"

"I don't think I've ever seen you this charming before," he said, trying to make sure she didn't run into anyone. "Alcohol clearly brings out the very best of your colorful vocabulary."

Once at the front door, she fixed her eyes on the swingset up on the hill. "I wanna go there," she slurred and pointed to the two old swings that didn't look sturdy enough to be anything but yard decoration now.

"Love, you can hardly stand, let alone sit on a swingset."

"I wanna go to the swings," she stubbornly insisted again.

"Look, there's a porch swing. Compromise then?" She answered with a shuddering jerk of her body like she was about to retch, but false alarm. "Thank god," Killian said. "I thought you were going to throw up on me. Now walk right over here." He led her down the porch. "There we go, that's a good girl," he smirked.

"Don't patronize me, and stop treating me like a baby. I can hold my liquor, thank you very much."

"As she clings onto me for balance, not that I mind," he teased and sat down next to her on the bench, planting a foot on the floor to keep it from swinging too much.

"I'm fine," she said, shoving him away from her to prove it, but he ended up having to catch her from falling sideways. "I said I'm fine," she repeated, but didn't make any attempt to move away.

"I know. You're right," he said as convincingly as he could and rested his arm on the back of the bench behind her, ready to keep her from tilting again. "Just humor me and let me feel useful for once."

"Liar."

"What? I believe you, I—"

"Don't you dare promise. You're lying and don't deny it," she laughed.

"How do you do that?" he chuckled. She shrugged in his arms.

"I can hear it. See—" She stopped talking and shuddered again. Killian's eyes widened in fear again as she fought down her body's second attempt to get rid of the poison pooled inside her stomach. Puke-free again though. "—I see it. It's my superpower," she giggled.

"Remind me not to play poker with you." She smiled and looked up at him.

"Killian?"

"Emma," he copied.

"Why are you helping me?" she asked curiously. "You don't have to help me. Why are you then?"

"Because I care—and, if I return you home like this, your father will never let me take you out on another date."

"This isn't a date," she said teasingly.

"Is this because we didn't dance? We can try now, but you're a little off balance at the moment and I don't see a table out here for us to—"

She punched him in the arm. "Shut up."

"I'm just curious what your requirements are for a date. I mean, we went to a concert together."

"You mean you _stalked_ me to my concert," she said.

"We shared a drink at the bar."

"I had a water bottle."

"Then we went to a party together."

"Why do you want to date me so bad?" she laughed, leaning into him, and not just because it was hard for her to stay up on the swinging bench; he was so warm and comfy right now and she felt like she could nestle right into his side and go to sleep. _Sleep_ , it sounded so beautiful right now.

"I told you, Ilikeyou, Emma Swan. I've truly never met anyone else quite like you."

"Not sure that's a good thing. Everyone always tells me to be more like my sister," she sighed.

"Ah, the little dark haired lass running around batting her eyes at everyone."

"Oh god." Emma rolled her eyes. "Yeah, she does that _all_ the damn time and she always gets her way," she said bitterly. "But _everyone_ loves her."

"Well. I like her sister better. She's bloody amazing, even if she doesn't see it sometimes."

Emma lifted up her head and saw that same little sparkle swimming around in his eyes while she searched for hints of a lie that she already knew wouldn't be there. She knew he was telling the truth and he knew she believed in him. They mirrored smiles and in that moment, Emma completely let herself feel good, free of worry. Walls down—she didn't need it, not with him.

"Your eyes are so fucking blue," Emma said. "I don't know what color though."

"You just said it, love."

"No. No, like the _kind_ of blue. Like I keep trying to figure it out, but I can't." Uh oh, she could feel it. It was the 'no filter' stage of drunkenness. "And, _god_ , I've been trying forever—since the time I met you."

"Oh really?" Killian grinned. She nodded, a lazy smile on her face as she rested her cheek on his arm, never breaking eye contact—just watching that little spark dance around in those 'so fucking blue' eyes of his. They were silent for a minute, just taking in each other's presence; a silent conversation of smiles and gestures.

"Killian," called another voice. The two broke their trance and settled their eyes on a very miserable looking Victor. "I need to talk to you." Emma started to tip forward.

"Ugh, I think I have the spins," she slurred. "Everything's falling down."

"Yeah, I'm a little busy as you can see," Killian said, concerned about the paleness washing over Emma.

"For a second?" Victor asked annoyed.

"You'll be alright for a minute, love?" Emma mumbled yes and grabbed onto the chain links of the swing. Killian propped her up the best he could, and, sure that she wouldn't topple over, took off his jacket and draped it over her. After she mumbled thanks, he and Victor walked down to the yard, just out of earshot.

"It's over," Victor said angrily.

"What's over?"

"This. Her. And _her_ , too." Victor gestured towards Emma. "The deal's off."

Killian didn't like that reminder of how this whole arrangement was a set up. This party, the concert, being here with Emma—it was all orchestrated and though he was genuinely happy to be with her, he couldn't ignore the fact that they were at this party because he was _supposed_ to be at this party. That guilt he thought he'd left back at home with his uncle started to seep into his conscience.

"It wasn't me she wanted. It was him. Jefferson."

"How do you know?" Killian asked.

Victor had been looking for Ruby the moment he got there with the exception of watching Emma's little show in the dining room, and Ruby was, too. The only difference is that when her friends pulled her over to their group, she stayed because for a moment, she felt how she used to feel.

She was finally at her first party and surrounded by only the most glamorous people. Suddenly the laughter was contagious again instead of stale and forced. The rush of receiving compliments on her party dress and makeup was back. At this party with all these beautiful girls dolled up in ways that they would never show up to school in, _she_ was the star— _she_ was the girl everyone wanted to be again.

Ruby was the center of attention, but it came with a price. Jefferson kept her close to him like the shiny trophy he'd always wanted of her, and she played into it. At first, just to keep his guard down so that she could run off and meet up with her other friends—her _real_ friends. She wanted to see how Mary Margaret was doing, more importantly to check and make sure that she followed Ruby's styling instructions, and she wanted to see Victor—wanted to see his eyes pop out and mouth fall open when he finally got a look at her.

However, time ticked by and she felt herself slipping back into the same trap she was in before. What if she was only perfect because Jefferson's arm was around her and not some other girl? So when Victor walked by, she stayed quiet and let Jefferson shoo him away, and it hurt to see the confusion in his eyes, but what could she do? What was she supposed to do? Give up all of this… for one person?

"Ruby likes Jefferson, not me," Victor said. Right then, the sound of Emma's laughter pulled Killian away from Victor's drama. He glanced over and saw someone sitting next to Emma on the porch swing. Curiosity—jealousy—started to eat away at his patience while Victor went on with his lament about Ruby.

"Listen, mate—"

"She never liked me," Victor continued.

"Mate—"

"She played me and I just let her."

' _For god's sake,'_ Killian thought and rolled his eyes. "Victor!"

"What?" Victor asked irritably.

"Do you like this girl?"

"Well, I thought I did—"

"No, you either do or you don't," Killian said, keeping Emma and this stranger in his line of sight.

"I…" Victor fought with himself, but the battle only lasted a second because the answer was clear and undeniable. "I do. I do like her," he mumbled in defeat.

"Listen, Jefferson is not half the man you are, alright? Don't let anyone ever make you feel like you don't deserve what you want, but if you won't fight for it, then you deserve what you get, right? So don't be a coward and stop wasting your time with me. Go for it."

Ready to fight for the girl of his dreams, Victor nodded with renewed morale and disappeared back inside as Killian breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that it didn't take more than that to lift his spirit back up.

Up on the porch swing, Emma pulled the jacket closer around her.

"So, Emma Swan. Whose jacket are you wearing?" said the guy next to her.

"Huh? Oh, I… It's just my—no. You know what? It's none of your business," she slurred slightly.

"Whoa! Emma Swan flustered? Must mean it's a big deal," he replied with a smile, watching an already flushed Emma turn redder. He kicked off the swing again, angled toward her, in a way that looked so natural and comfortable much to Killian's dismay.

' _Better than you,'_ an evil voice taunted in the back of his head.

"No, I'm—we're not— leave me alone! I'm drunk." She pulled the jacket even tighter and buried her pink-cheeked face into it while the boy continued to tease her. It smelled like him and even though she was enjoying the reunion with her old friend, she still wanted the wearer to come back and—

"Am I interrupting?" Killian asked, raising an eyebrow when he met the stranger's stare.

"No, not at all," he said quickly and got up from Killian's spot. He held out his hand and introduced himself. "Hey, I'm Graham."

"Killian Jones."

"Well, I should get back. You know, make sure the house doesn't get too destroyed." Graham gave Emma another quick smile. "Have fun—though, Emma, I think you've had enough fun for tonight," he teased.

"Watch it, Humbert," she warned, starting to sober up and feel the weight of her embarrassment about her table dancing.

Graham said with a lowered voice, "Thanks for taking care of her. Make sure she gets home okay?"

"Absolutely."

"Alright then," he said. "It's good to see you, Emma."

' _See how he made her laugh no problem?'_ Killian tried to shut it up. _'And he probably met her by chance, not because it was schemed—Bloody hell, stop it, Killian.'_ The attacks were relentless. _'You can tell, can't you? He's a good guy. Not like you. He's better, he's better for her—'_

"You going to stand there the whole night?" she asked, Graham now long gone. Killian sat down next to her wordlessly, his mind still flashing back to his uncle and the talk they'd had about playing with girls' hearts. "Hey!" She poked his arm. "What's up with you?"

"Nothing at all." Was he still technically playing with Emma's heart in Victor and Ruby's game? His feelings were real though, so that was a no, right? "A friend of yours I take it?"

"Yeah, Graham and I used to be friends," she replied.

"You two looked plenty friendly to me," he murmured with just the slightest hint of sourness.

"What?"

"You two," he covered, horribly, "you still seem like friends still." Emma left his ego alone and let it slide.

"Kind of. It's complicated."

"Ah. One of those complicated friendships," he said a little too bitterly that she couldn't let it go without some poking.

"Is Killian Jones jealous?"

"Not at all."

" _Liar_ ," she sang.

"I think your lie detector is broken, Swan. What would I have to be jealous about? With you being so in love with my eyes and all."

"Stop. Or I'll hurl on you."

"But you have my jacket, so if you do, you'll ruin my shirt and I'll have to take it off—unless that's been your plan all along," he smirked.

Smack.

That's how it went for the rest of the night; just the two of them alone on the porch swing throwing quips back and forth—Emma constantly adjusting her rested head on his shoulder to look up at his smiles and Killian absently playing with strands of her hair while people drank and partied inside. Because out there on that porch, Emma was having her own fun; she was smiling, laughing, tipping over every now and then, but Killian was always there to pull her right back up.

While Mary Margaret and David stayed, talking and dancing for the rest of the night, Emma was now sober enough to walk by herself again up the path toward the car. She still let Killian take hold of her arm in his like a proper gentleman. She had enough excitement for one night, yet at the same time, she wished it wouldn't end because there was a handsome blue-eyed boy staring at her with a level of affection that made her stomach do flips. She was torn between staying in his car forever and walking the few yards that separated her tired eyes and body from a bed.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "For everything today."

She was glad for the darkness in that car because she could feel warmth setting into her cheeks, the blood rushing to her face. Her mind was racing and her heart was pounding faster now, each thud a little harder against her ribs than the last. She wondered if maybe he could hear it in the silence of the car.

"I—I didn't think you were—I mean, in the beginning, I wasn't sure…" Her head was swarming and not from the lingering alcohol, and he was just so quiet, giving her the space to work out the jumbled pile of sentences inside her head. "I thought it might be a trick, but I think, no, I _know_ that you're…" Emma paused. This was a nightmare. "Just say it again? Please?"

"Say what, love?" asked Killian, a little sadness, a little guilt, in his voice, but she couldn't hear a thing over the loud sound of her own pulse in her ears.

"What you said on the porch. You know, when I asked you why you were helping me." Killian was quiet for a moment, trying to remember, but it dawned on him what she was asking.

"I care about you, Emma," he said softly, in his mind pleading that somehow the real nature of how and why they met would be erased and replaced with something normal—something like she probably had with the boy from before.

"Thank you," she whispered, loving the sound of truth ringing from his declaration. Before she could register what she was doing, she leaned over and brought her lips just inches away from his. She leaned in just the slightest more, letting her long eyelashes flutter closed, and waited for him to close the gap. She waited.

Yup, she waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

Emma kept her eyes closed until an awkward amount of time had passed and still no contact. He was sitting there, both hands on the steering wheel, staring straight ahead. Her humiliation sent a cold shiver of fear running up her spine. She wanted to shudder, but she stayed frozen in her confusion, trying to understand what the hell it was that just happened.

"Maybe some other time," he mumbled. His guilt had won. Killian only looked at Emma when he felt the slam of the passenger door, shut so hard that it shook the entire car. He stared miserably at her back, watching her take angry strides up the pathway to her front door.

He just hurt her. He just rejected her. He just embarrassed her. He knew Emma couldn't stand feeling that vulnerable—wounded like she was too weak to take the blow and move on, so just as he assumed, she pulled up her walls again and resorted to her feeling of choice:

Anger.

* * *

Victor and Ruby pulled up to her house thirty minutes later.

Jefferson and the rest of her friends decided to move the party to his house, but Ruby had a midnight curfew and needed a ride. She felt alone again. She didn't feel pretty or special because there everyone was, piling into Jefferson's shiny black SUV and leaving her behind without a second glance.

Then he found her. Victor, pumped up from Killian's pep talk, felt all that courage and fire leave him; reduced to just a tragically in love boy with what he thought were unrequited feelings.

"Ruby," Victor finally said. Their car ride was more than awkward and tense. The two of them just sat in silence—Ruby mulling over her guilt for standing him up and Victor in his embarrassment of being a pawn instead of the mastermind.

"Look, before you say anything," Ruby began, "just know that I'm sorry. I—"

"In the beginning, did you really mean it when you said you wanted to go out with me?"

"…The beginning?"

"Yes. The beginning."

"Well… Kinda, I mean, I was considering—"

"I can't believe this."

"It's not like that anymore!"

"Anymore?! Did you ever even like me?" he asked, barely disguising the hurt in his voice.

"Victor, of course I—"

"Or was this all so that you could be with that stupid pretty boy Jefferson?"

"I—"

Victor wouldn't let her speak. "You can't just do that to people and think it's okay. Just because you're beautiful doesn't mean—"

Ruby surged forward and stopped his tirade with a searing kiss. It was hard, her lips crushed against his, and she hoped everything she was trying to tell him could be felt in that kiss. Judging by the dazed look in his eyes and the way he his body refused to move even as she pulled away from him and started up the walkway, he heard everything she wanted to say.

Even Mary Margaret, once so shy and insecure, stopped David's nervous conversation with the perfect kiss—arms wrapped around each other like they didn't ever want to let go, him smiling against her lips, her foot popping up like in the movies, and all under the starlight, too? It was a fairytale worthy kiss.

Mary Margaret couldn't believe today was real—that her life was real.

David was whistling happy tunes his entire way home.

Ruby had thrown herself onto her bed, hugging and smiling into her pillow.

Victor was still in shock and staring off into nowhere; the beginning of a full-on grin slowly creeping up.

But poor Emma and Killian were far from happy.

Emma was throwing everything and anything that reminded her of Killian into a drawer. She couldn't get rid of it though. A part of her begged and screamed not to destroy anything or throw it out forever while the rest raged and fed on her anger. Her blood was pumping and her nails dug into her palms as she clenched her fists, staring down at the petals trailed across her carpet to the drawer where they lay tangled and crushed beneath CDs and crumpled up notes.

She was furious and couldn't imagine ever feeling anything else, her hatred seeming limitless; that is, until the lights were out and she lay there, buried underneath her blankets. She shrank down further into her bed and pulled the covers higher over her head, trying to hide from her feelings, but even underneath layer upon layer of her little cave, she still couldn't escape it.

She felt rejected, unworthy, hopeless, and worst of all, a little heartbroken.

* * *

Killian got home just before midnight, but wasn't surprised when he saw the houselights still on. He was hoping to come home to an empty house, to just blindly feel his way to his bed and stay there for the rest of the weekend drowning in his own self-loathing, but of course there was his uncle sitting in the same spot on the couch waiting to pounce on his nephew. He paused his movie and smiled at Killian.

"Look who's back! Have fun? Did you …" He took in Killian's grim appearance and downcast eyes as he immediately and wordlessly drifted straight into the dark hallway and then let himself fall face-first onto his bed.

He did care about her. He cared about her so much it was almost scary sometimes, but he pushed through it because the thought of her happy and smiling burned up any fears and doubts he had in his mind—until tonight.

He wanted to kiss her, he wanted nothing more than to pretend everything was fine, that he wasn't told twice that day that he wasn't worth a damn—that the way people looked at him made him not worthy of someone like her. He wanted to pretend that they met by chance in that hallway. He wanted to pretend that his jealousy of that Graham guy wasn't because he thought that maybe he or someone else might be a better choice for her.

He wanted to start all over again and have fate, and not Victor, pushing them together because then it'd at least be a real sign that despite who he was, what he had done, and most of all, what the world thought of him, he and Emma would cross paths and would grow so close and attached to each other like they had.

He wanted to drive back there and pound on that door until she came out—probably mad and furious at him, but he'd kiss her and suddenly it would all make sense; they'd make sense.

But life isn't a fairytale for people like Killian Jones, and Emma deserved a fairytale happy ending, he told himself.

"Kid, you okay?"

Killian didn't say anything.

"If you're awake, I wanted to tell you that… you know, you're a good kid and whatever happens, I'm here if you want to talk."

Killian lay there motionlessly, hoping his uncle would think he was asleep, but his uncle knew better and backed out of the room to give him his space.

He'd actually been going to school. He'd been playing by the rules. He'd been doing something with himself, and damn it, he even stopped smoking for this girl (and he had wanted a cigarette all damn night).

Killian knew how horrible it felt to be without Emma and he knew she felt the same with him.

' _She felt the same with him_ …'

Then he went and wrecked it all; ruined everything. He groaned because she probably hated him now and there wasn't a doubt in his mind because he knew how she was and right now she was probably debating whether to set fire to her roses.

With the thought of those flowers, he could see again his smiling Swan, hair soaked and matted to her forehead underneath the sprinklers in the halls; smell the soft perfume of her hair as she leaned against him on the swing; felt the warmth of her hand when she let him hold it in the club—the way she wanted to kiss him.

_Wanted._

That's what he told David in the club, that maybe Emma _wanted_ him around; that maybe Emma _wanted_ him—the Killian behind _Killian Jones_. No, there wasn't even a 'maybe' to it because she did. It was clear as day in her eyes and the way her face lit up when he told her he cared about her. She _did_ want him…

And he rejected her. He tried to play the martyr and what good did it do? Hurt her?

"Fuck," he whined into his pillow, and there he pretty much stayed all weekend; in a stuffy dark room, too miserable to come out no matter what favorite foods and movies his uncle brought home for him.

* * *

Killian wasn't sure why he was there at school. He wanted to see her, just to be near her, but at the same time, he cowered from the thought of having to confront this messy situation he'd put them in.

"Why didn't you kiss her?" an exasperated and confused David asked which only made Killian more irritated.

"First, you tell me to stay away from her, and now you're standing there all menacingly asking why I did?"

David's face filled with his own regret. He knew he had a hand in all this and couldn't even bring himself to admit it to Emma when he'd finally gotten the truth out of her.

"Don't worry, mate," Killian sighed and slammed his locker shut. "This was all me."

"No, it wasn't. It wasn't right of me to say what I did before, and I never thanked you for what you did at the party for Mary Margaret; being there when I wasn't."

"Don't mention it," said Killian, walking away.

"Did you do it to impress her? Impress Emma?" David asked, still unsure about Killian's motives, but when Killian stopped and turned to face him, the seriousness in the way he looked at David already gave an answer.

"I did it," Killian said, "because it was the right thing to do. I'm a gentleman, and when I see a lady in need of help, I offer my hand—no matter how much she yells at me." David cracked a smile at his— _his_ —now girlfriend and her secret temper. "Oh, speaking of."

"What did you do?! Again!" Mary Margaret shouted, stalking over to the boys.

"It's what I _didn't_ do, darling," Killian said bitterly.

"You embarrassed her in the worse possible way a girl who likes you _can_ be embarrassed."

"I have to head to class," David said, then turned to kiss Mary Margaret on the cheek. "I'm going to go check on her. I'll find you later," he whispered and with a sad nod at Killian, walked around the corner.

"We need to fix this," she sighed, rubbing her temples—something she did a lot around Killian when she wasn't rolling her eyes.

"Not sure it can be." He let his head fall back against the wall in defeat. Something in his tone finally clicked and she noticed the dark half moons under his eyes. It was starting to really sink in how much—how _real_ this was for Killian and Emma. It wasn't a game, it was true; Killian had true feelings for Emma.

"There's always a way," she said reassuringly, the softness in her voice surprising him. "We just…"

"'Need to get creative?'" he quoted.

"Victor." Mary Margaret nodded.

* * *

At lunch, Victor and Ruby were hiding out. They both knew the deal and understood that Jefferson wouldn't be too pleased to hear that _he_ was really the one being used now.

"I feel like a monster for playing this game with everyone…" Ruby said. "I don't know, I just—it's getting so complicated and as much as she bugs the crap out of me, Emma was acting weird this weekend. Well, weirder than usual. I don't know."

"Don't worry. I'm just as guilty, so we can be monsters together," Victor said. "Oh look, it's Killian and Mary Margaret. Hey guys," he greeted. "What's wrong..?"

"And that's my cue. See you later?" Ruby smiled and went back inside.

"What's wrong is Emma isn't exactly happy with Killian right now, that's what's wrong," Mary Margaret said with a frown.

"Wait, what happened? You guys were fine last night," Victor groaned.

"Long story short, Emma tried to kiss him, he didn't, and now everything's been shot to hell _again_ ," Mary Margaret said. "Sorry," she said to Killian who actually winced a little.

"It's the truth," he shrugged.

"What? What?! Why didn't you? Do you know what this means?!" Victor panicked.

Mary Margaret and Killian both looked pained now—this meant that everything they've all worked for was ruined.

"I was supposed to take out Ruby tomorrow!" Victor finally answered.

"Victor, honestly." Mary Margaret rolled her eyes.

"So did she say anything to David?" Victor asked. Apprehension didn't even cover what Killian was feeling. He had the most horrible sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. After a weekend of mulling it over, examining the situation and looking for any opening, any way to fix it—he concluded that the most realistic option was to just imagine the absolute worst case scenario—and multiply it by ten.

"Um, well. 'Hates him with the fire of a thousand suns,' is the direct quote," said Mary Margaret.

Nope. That was definitely worse than anything he could conjure up.

"Sorry," she apologized again to Killian. "David said she's using it in her poetry assignment in your English class."

"Well, thank you, darling. That's very comforting," Killian said.

"Oh, you know how girls are," Victor said, trying to calm down the situation. "It'll only take a day or two for her to let it go—"

A leather jacket clad blonde caught his attention as she walked fiercely through the courtyard. When she saw the three of them, her eyes zoned in on Killian and she flipped him off, holding up her hand at him the entire time until she stomped off out of sight.

"Maybe give her three…" Victor said.

"Yeah, that'll do it," Mary Margaret snorted.

"Ugh, this is a bloody mess."

"She's just embarrassed! She let down her guard and you rejected her. You couldn't have expected anything less than that," Victor said

"It's got to be big," she began, the cogs in her head starting to turn.

"What does?" Killian's head shot up, hoping Mary Margaret had a magical solution while Victor giggled to himself like a twelve year old, muttering 'That's what she said,' under his breath.

"Something that you're probably going to be embarrassed to do," she continued.

"Are you serious? You honestly think that publicly humiliating myself will fix this entire situation?"

"Do you want her to forgive you or not? It's worth a shot," she said.

"Wait, how _will_ this make Emma like him again?" Victor asked.

"You have to prove to her that you're serious—wait, are you?" she asked, wanting to confirm her suspicion.

"I am," Killian said without hesitation then hurriedly asked, "Now what do you two have in mind?"

"Well," Victor began. "Do you sing?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10 Things Movie Fans: That's right, next chapter is EXACTLY WHAT YOU THINK IT IS. I Hope I do it justice, I encourage everyone to watch the movie now if you haven't or at least look it up on YouTube. (Link is in next chapter author's note)


	9. Serenade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I really, really, really recommend that you search up '10 Things I Hate About You Heath Ledger singing' on YouTube to really understand/hopefully enjoy one of the upcoming scenes. If you don't like spoilers, just watch it at the end. I promise you will fall in love with him <3
> 
> I also had to include Bianca's famous archery scene because it's just the best; hope you like the coach. And oh, god. Oh god… You get a couple lines from Regina's novel (it's horrible, I'm so sorry XD)

Did he sing. Of course he could sing, but if he could avoid having to potentially embarrass himself in front of half the school, Killian was going to do everything in his power to make Emma forgive him.

His first attempt was to catch her in their English class. Early for class, Killian undetectably took the seat behind hers while Mrs. Lucas had her back turned, writing an entire board's worth of notes. Students filed in, all except Emma who was racing to beat the bell. She made it by two seconds, but froze when she saw Killian smiling at her. She glared at him and took her seat.

A folded up piece of paper flew passed her shoulder and landed on her desk, and though she knew she should just ignore it and put an end to his attempted conversation, she wanted to see what was written in it.

" _I've been looking for you. I'm sorry for the other night"_

She grasped it in one hand and quietly crumpled it up into her fist. Killian changed tactics and leaned forward to whisper.

"Emma, just give me a chance to—"

"Mrs. Lucas," Emma called out, raising her hand.

The old woman turned around and peered over her glasses.

"Killian Jones is being disruptive," Emma said innocently.

"You know what to do, Jones." Killian let out a huff and grabbed his books off his desk, exiting the classroom, but looking back at Emma before walking down the hall. She didn't even give him a second glance, intently staring straight ahead at the board. It was only when he was gone that a part of her—a small part of her—was actually disappointed to see him go.

* * *

The next day, Emma opened her locker and found another flower lying in there. Killian looked around the corner only to see Emma drop it to the ground and twist her foot, crushing it into the tile.

Killian's face fell as he watched her walk away, walking faster than normal, no doubt angry.

By the next day, Emma was starting to become exhausted, having a hard time sleeping again. She did her best not to think of him and, worse, how humiliated she felt, but the thoughts kept jumping up from wherever she buried them in her mind. She knew not to torture herself, but it was easier said than done.

Needless to say, when a pair of blue eyes followed her, trying desperately to catch her gaze, from the other side of the library aisle, she just sighed and waited for him to confront her at the end of it.

"Emma," Killian greeted unsurely. She stared up at him, scrutinizing him, which only made him more nervous.

"What do you want Killian?" she sighed defeated.

"I'm sorry I didn't—"

"Please don't," she cut him off, moving to walk around him, but as usual he stepped back in front of her and blocked her exit.

"I wanted to. I just thought maybe it was the wrong place and time for you."

"Are you kidding me?" She rolled her eyes. " _You_ were the one who wasn't feeling it, and that's fine. It's okay, don't feel guilty and don't pity me. It was nothing. I was drunk."

"You weren't drunk anymore and I'm not pitying you."

"I don't want to talk about this!" she yelled, earning her a reprimanding look and an angry _'Shh!'_ from the librarian. She took in a deep breath trying to calm herself because the stupid way he was looking at her made her eyes prickle and the last thing she'd ever let happen was to cry in front of Killian Jones. "Just leave me alone."

"But—"

"Killian," she said softly—sadly. "Please, just leave me alone." She was looking everywhere but at him and as she walked around him, Killian didn't stop her and let her go.

* * *

"I'm doing it," Killian said with determination to Mary Margaret and Victor.

"Fantastic," Victor said.

"And I think we should get the school's band to help," he said.

"Wow, that'll be perfect. What song?" Mary Margaret asked.

"Um…" He hadn't gotten that far in his plan yet. "I'll figure it out tonight."

* * *

After school, Killian spent three hours going through everything he could find on his iPod and laptop. No luck. He listened to the lyrics of each song, but nothing was right. He wanted to make her understand how she made him feel.

"If I didn't see it with my own eyes, I'd never believe it. Killy is doing his homework," his uncle said entering the house.

"I'm looking for a song." Killian prepared himself for ridicule. "I'm going to sing it to this girl at school."

"Knew it was too good to be true," his uncle said, surprisingly not laughing.

"No, I did it all earlier," Killian said, carrying the laptop and plopping down on the couch. "I can't find anything."

"Why are you serenading her?"

"I messed up. Didn't kiss her, now she won't talk to me. I've said sorry a dozen of times, but it's not working."

"Coward."

"What?" Killian narrowed his eyes.

"You can say sorry all you want, but have you stopped to tell her how you feel about her?"

"She knows I like her."

"Sometimes people need to hear it. She's probably confused and you're making it look like—"

"I'm 'playing with her heart?'" Killian quoted from his uncle's lecture. Just like David, guilt flooded his uncle's face. He cleared his throat.

"Didn't sound like you liked her that much," the man said in his defense.

"Yeah, well, I do."

"Why don't you go browse that music store of yours? See if anything pops out. The owner's bound to know something that'll fit. You'll find it—or it'll find you, either way."

Killian grabbed his keys and drove to the store. Thankfully it was already dark out because right in the window was Emma fiddling around with a pearlescent electric guitar. He waited for her to leave, watching her put it back on the stand. Once she left, he went in and started to look, but nothing caught his eye. He was about to give up when the radio station playing in the background switched to a new song.

It was perfect.

* * *

Mary Margaret shot her last arrow; a perfect bull's eye again. The archery team needed new members for the upcoming competition and Coach Cora all but begged Mary Margaret to be on the team once she saw what the girl could do with a bow.

She was ecstatic and even received some pats on the back from her new teammates. She'd never had the courage to try out and now she was standing straight up, eyes focused only on the red target in the center. Ignoring the way the cheerleaders gawked at her, she took in a deep breath and pulled the arrow back, concentrating so hard only on her mark that she didn't hear the footsteps come up behind her.

"Hey," David said, kissing the corner of her lips.

She jumped and the arrow flew; flew right to its new target—coach Cora's butt. The woman yelped, hopping on one foot while some of the girls nearby ran to her aid.

"Good thing you're at the last station, right?" David said awkwardly.

"Um, maybe we should go," Emma linked her arm with Mary Margaret's and started to walk her away.

"No! No, let's stay," Mary Margaret panicked.

"Why…?" Emma asked. She looked to her side and saw the band lounging around on the grass with their instruments. "And what is band doing out here?"

"Because…"

"It's such a nice day. They're probably trying to enjoy the sun like we should! Why spend it inside?" David said hastily, trying to keep Emma from leaving the field.

"It's kind of hot out," Emma said, wanting the couple to not worry about having a third wheel. "I'm going to go; tons of homework to do. See you later," she smiled.

David and Mary Margaret began to protest when a sharp high-pitched noise burst from the stadium speakers. Everyone groaned, covering their ears except for Mary Margaret and David who were grinning at their success.

"Oh, thank god," Mary Margaret said, relieved because Killian was right on time.

' _You're just too good to be true,_

_Can't take my eyes off of you'_

Everyone gasped at the sweet voice ringing throughout the stadium. A lone figure stepped from the window of the sound booth and walked along the ledge of it.

' _You'd be like heaven to touch,_

_I wanna hold you so much'_

He slid down the pipe alongside the building, singing,

' _At long last love has arrived,_

_And I thank god I'm alive'_

Hitting the ground, he walked closer to the top of the staircase where everyone could easily see Killian Jones with a microphone. Emma's eyebrows flew up in surprise.

She couldn't believe her eyes—and ears. What the hell was he thinking? It was the day the school district's chief school administrator was visiting. Principal Mills had even made a threatening announcement about being on their best behavior for the day, and now here was Killian with a stolen mic, singing… To her?

' _You're just too good to be true,_

_Can't take my eyes off of you'_

She jumped when she heard the band start up, in formation and filling the stadium with music. She could hear the people around her giggling at Killian's dance across the giant step of the stadium, treating the venue like his own personal concert. The cheerleading squad cheered for him, _'Woo-'_ ing at him, hoping that maybe the song was meant for one of them, but as the musical intermission ended, Killian pointed to the only girl he'd ever do something like this for. He was pointing at Emma.

' _I love you baby,'_

Everyone in the stadium looked at her, but she didn't notice. Mouth hanging open, she couldn't tear her eyes away from Killian as he ran across the steps, singing,

' _And if it's quite alright, I need you baby,_

_To warm the lonely night, I love you baby,_

_Trust in me when I say—'_

Two of the school's security officers appeared at the edge of the field, no doubt in fear of not carrying out Regina's orders fast enough. Emma stared up wide-eyed, a smile starting to sneak up onto her lips.

' _Oh pretty baby, don't bring me down I pray,_

_Oh pretty baby, now that I found you stay,_

_And let me_ love youbaby,

_Let me love you!'_

He winked at her. The band kept on playing like planned, but Killian stopped singing and ran from the guards down the staircase. They caught him, but with one quick twist, he slipped out of their hands, now putting on a show of defiance for Emma. After running around for a minute, they eventually got him again which did nothing to get rid of the grin on his face because Emma was smiling again, and that was enough for him.

Everyone on the field cheered and clapped as the officers hauled him away.

Doing something like this today proved to her two things: the first, Killian Jones was ridiculous; and second, he _did_ feel the same way.

But before anything could happen, she needed to bust him out of detention.

* * *

Regina stood with her hands on her hips, furious at Killian who was nonchalantly examining his fingernails.

"Of all days to pull a stunt like that," she said. "Of all days—you pick the day the superintendent is touring the campus?!"

Killian tried to suppress his smirk, but Regina caught it and stared at him murderously.

"Detention. Now." She nodded to the security guard standing at the door who grabbed Killian's shoulder and steered him into the classroom. It was full of students who had been caught—luckily before the big bosses could see. Regina wasn't so lucky with Killian though and had to give them a quick cover story before whispering to the officers to handle it.

As Killian settled down in one of the front desks, listening to Principal Mills lecture them all, Emma was running to her locker to grab the only thing that could distract Regina enough to get him out.

After convincing the officer to let her through, everyone turned toward the door. Killian curiously stared at her, too.

"What is it?" Regina nearly snapped.

"I, uh, have some things I need to discuss with you."

"It can wait." Regina rolled her eyes and turned around to grab something off the desk at the front of the classroom. Emma used the moment to point at and mouth out _'the window,'_ smiling innocently when Regina turned back around.

"It really can't wait. It's about your manuscript."

"I hardly think this is an appropriate time to talk. We can meet tomorrow if it's so urgent. You can go now," Regina said. Emma needed to get Regina to come to her; she needed to give Killian a chance to escape, so she did something she swore she'd never do. Flipping open to a random page, she read the dreaded manuscript.

"But it's so moving, this part. I just have to read it," Emma said, clearing her throat. _"'Reginald took Adrian in his arms; his rough hands traveling up and down the sides of her corset, tugging at the laces and freeing her creamy white bosom from its silky confines.'"_

"Miss Swan, that's enough!" Regina shouted, pushing off the desk and moving toward Emma.

"'Oh, Reginald,' _Lucinda cried, her lust a burning heat threatening to consume her as he devoured her lush crimson lips once more. Reginald stopped his ministrations and gazed into her gray moonlit orbs. He stroked her auburn hair, his engorged—'_ "

" _Miss Swan,"_ Regina reached forward and snatched the manuscript from her hands. Emma was slightly pink-cheeked from the passage, but it was worth it because Killian was beaming at her from outside the window.

The classroom began to clap—for Emma and Killian's escape plan—but Regina stopped and looked around, smiling, thinking they were clapping for her romance novel.

"Thank you, thank you," Regina said, her anger gone now. "I take it that was what you had to talk to me about?" she asked in a completely different tone than before.

"Yes, it was… A work of art. So, um… Descriptive?" Emma said, the embarrassment setting in even more.

"Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it." Emma wanted to cover her face so bad.

"I should go now to… edit the rest of it." She backed out of the room immediately after Principal Mills handed her back the story, hoping she'd get at least a head start before Regina noticed Killian missing.

She found him waiting for her outside the school entrance.

"You're bloody brilliant," he laughed.

"I know," she smirked. They walked together, their hands brushing against the other until Killian made a bold move to take hers in his. Emma smiled down and squeezed his hand back.

"Finally," Victor cheered along with David, Mary Margaret, and Ruby. They sat at the benches watching Killian open the car door for Emma then drive away.

"Where do you think they're going?" David asked, still a little protective.

"On a date, duh," Ruby said, and pulled Victor up along with her. "Which means I get to go on a date, too."

"Ruby?" Victor asked.

"Yes?"

"Can I finally take you to see that movie?" Ruby laughed and left Mary Margaret and David to plan their costumes for the upcoming prom.

* * *

Emma and Killian walked along the pier, stopping to rent out a pedal boat, and started to talk about how crazy he was for singing to her in front of everyone.

"It was worth it," he said. "So, now that I have you stranded with nowhere to go—unless you feel like swimming—we should talk about that party…"

"No, don't, it doesn't matter anymore." She looked at him and said, "I'm tired of living in the past all the time."

"I know the feeling."

"Tell me something about yourself. Something true."

"I'm not on the run from the law," he chuckled.

"Watch it, Jones. You're starting to lose your bad boy edge," she said. "How come you let people think those rumors are true?"

"Well… It's easier, I guess, to have people think you're the bad guy—that way they don't expect anything more from you." It was his turn now. "So, why do you act the way we do?" he asked.

"Guess I got tired of putting it all out there. I didn't want anyone to see the real me. At least if they call me a bitch now it's because I'm doing it on purpose."

"Well, you failed miserably."

"What?"

"I see you and I've figured you out, too." From where Killian was sitting, he could see Emma tense up. "I see a girl who's so beautiful when she smiles. And a real smile, not that 'I'm going to punch you when you least expect it' smile." He got her to laugh and even blush a little. "And I also think that deep down, she has such a big heart that letting people come near it scares her sometimes."

"I don't know what to say to that," she said.

"You don't have to," Killian smiled. "Well, as usual, that got serious rather quickly." They started to pedal back to the harbor. "Come on." He helped her from the boat. "I want to show you something."

"What is it?"

Killian grinned mischievously and pointed at the obstacle course down the pier. Everything was stained in paint and so were the people running around in it. Emma and Killian put on white coveralls and goggles and immediately snatched the little paint-filled balloons from their messenger bags.

Killian ducked behind a board, avoiding Emma's balloon, and Emma dodged his only by inches. They unrelentingly launched them at each other over and over—the side of Killian's face painted green and Emma's hair now bright yellow—until Emma tackled him and smashed a balloon on his chest; a bright blue wound from their war.

They were evenly matched and kept laughing until their stomachs hurt. Calming down from their fit, they looked at each other, eyes sparkling and full, happy grins. After a moment, Killian tucked a painted strand of her hair behind her ear. His eyes flickered down to her lips. They slowly leaned in until their lips met.

Smiling against each other, Killian then broke away and asked, "Go to prom with me?"

"What do you think?" Emma replied then squealed when Killian evened the score and smashed a paint balloon over her head again.

"Now we're at a tie," he said.

"Fine, I'll accept that. But hey—"

"Yes?"

"Let's keep our costumes secret until the dance," she said.

"You'll never guess what I have in mind."

"And I can guarantee you won't guess mine either."

"We'll see about that," he said cockily.

* * *

Killian kissed her goodnight at her doorstep. Tearing himself away from her took all of his will power. When Emma walked inside and shut the door, her father was sitting in the living room with Ruby.

"Emma, who was that?" he asked disapprovingly.

"My date for prom," she said casually.

"Which means I get to go to prom, too!" Ruby squealed loud enough to make everyone flinch and ran up the stairs to call Victor. Though Emma assumed Jefferson.

When Killian arrived home, his uncle asked how it went and Killian just couldn't keep himself from grinning.

"Good for you, kiddo."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, watch the staircase scene of Heath singing 'Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You'—so worth it! Okay, hope you enjoyed it, see you next time!


	10. Playing the Part

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never had this much fun and satisfaction writing something. It's almost coming to an end and it's kind of breaking my heart.
> 
> Announcement: this is the third to last chapter. One more left to go and then the last will be an epilogue that will hopefully leave you laughing after our story ends.
> 
> Now on with the show!

After his successful serenade, Killian couldn't come home without being constantly teased. _'Killy's in love,'_ his uncle would chant. It didn't help his case that the mere mention of Emma made him grin so bright that he couldn't do a thing to hide it.

She was everywhere and he loved it; at school, in his car, at home, and in his dreams—again. However, this time they were less cryptic and much clearer, just a wish-fulfilling extension of Killian's now unbelievably blissful life with the girl of his dreams—literally.

To think that only a few months ago, Killian had spent his days in restless agony, trying his damnedest not to succumb and find new ways to forget about the torturous hollowness he'd wake up with every morning. Yes, things were different now. Emma made Killian a better person; she made him care and it was showing.

Things between him and his uncle were considerably friendlier, the old man proudly loving the lack of phone calls from Principal Mills about Killian's behavior and also silently marveling at Killian's latest progress report in the mail. Killian didn't want him to make a big deal out of it; his uncle nearly missing the envelope peeking out from the pile of papers to be shredded.

Whoever this girl was—and hopefully Killian would someday put an end to his curiosity and introduce the little lady—she was more than okay in his book.

* * *

Emma received less taunting and more gawking at home; especially when she couldn't help but let out her now easy laughter every time she called up David, Mary Margaret, and, more frequently, Killian.

Time was different with Killian. When she stopped to think about how her life was before and all the loneliness that lay there, it felt like a lifetime ago. She'd nearly given up on this town and people in general. She had determined that everyone was either out to get her or didn't and couldn't care for someone like her. Then Killian happened and from the moment she met him, he'd sent a ripple through her reasoning; proving that sometimes people received a second chance at being loved, something she thought died along with the only person to unconditionally love her—her mother.

She'd never forget the day her whole world and the illusion she'd lived in came crashing down—betrayed by friends, abandoned without a second thought, shut out by her family, and left desolately alone with a life-changing pain; hanging only by a thread thanks to her only friend then, David.

Now, she'd never felt stronger because together her and Killian could tackle the world and handle anything thrown at them.

As long as Emma had the warm brush of his thumb on her hand—and Killian had the green sparkle of her eyes reassuring him that he wasn't just some lost cause—they were invincible in their endless support of each other.

Emma was falling hard for him and Killian was patiently waiting at the bottom to catch her.

* * *

Word that Killian Jones's performance had been dedicated to Emma Swan sparked a wide range of reactions. Some thought it was cute that the school's resident bad boy and bad girl were together; others feared the duo even more; a good portion gossiped ruthlessly in their jealousy; and the rest seemed completely indifferent with prom only a week away.

Whatever the response, Emma and Killian couldn't bring themselves to care. They were building their own private world where both of them were safe—where both of them finally felt the unconditional love they each deserved and was long overdue. And, they couldn't get enough of it.

She didn't hit her snooze button anymore; instead, jumping out of bed bright-eyed and eager to start the day because there was his car, parked right outside her house with its driver looking forward to greeting her with a kiss and breakfast. He started to see a pattern—when he brought a bearclaw along with her favorite drink, too, he received extra affection and a cheerier smile. Needless to say, there was a pastry always waiting on her seat.

School was their favorite though—and they _never_ thought they'd feel that way. They spent the passing periods between classes hiding in empty doorways, Killian hugging her against him so closely that they needed the privacy of their hideouts, and sometimes they spent their skipped classes in empty corridors, her cornering and turning him breathless with the frenzied assault of her strawberry chapsticked lips.

They had their usual playful lunch conversations huddled up together underneath the thick shade of their tree. Right after school, they drove to Killian's house to finish their homework together before his uncle came home—doing more lip-locking on the couch than reading, resulting in a C- on their quiz the next day.

"I blame you," she said.

"Me? What about you, Miss 'Let's take another quick break.'" She blushed, but stubbornly defended herself.

"Oh yeah, because you protested so much. Not my fault your hormones are sky-rocketing."

"Actually it _is_ your fault. If you weren't such a siren—" He was overtaken by a haze, his eyes falling closed immediately, when she pulled him outside and tiptoed to press her lips to his. "Like I said," he laughed. "Bloody temptress."

Evenings were spent out, driving to nowhere, radio blasting and Emma making Killian sing some more for her; watching sunsets on his favorite part of the beach, the same part he had brooded over her in the beginning; and stealing each other's French fries—Emma doing most of the stealing.

This all meant that Ruby could go out, too—driving to the mall; watching movies; and stealing Victor's milkshakes.

With the house so silent and empty, Gold started to feel the cold chill of his own isolation. It gave him a vision of the future without the girls running around and driving him insane. Ruby noticed his silence and pulled him to the side one night while Emma hogged the phone, no doubt talking to Killian again.

"Maybe it's time you found someone else," she suggested.

"You want me to move on from your mother?"

"She wouldn't want you living like this."

"Like what?"

"This—still wearing your wedding ring like you're expecting her to come back," she replied. He made no attempt to speak, so she let him be. He'd never forget his first wife, but he couldn't forget Ruby's words either. His old love wouldn't want this for him. After days of contemplating it, he moved to his nightstand and put his old ring away.

* * *

Ruby hated days like these. She had to spend her lunch with Jefferson and feign interest to keep up the ruse. She hadn't been convincing enough because Jefferson noticed the way she ducked her head, letting her red and brown hair curtain her smiles, as she texted some mystery person on her phone.

When he asked, she just told him it was her new friend, Mary Margaret, and that seemed to throw him off the scent. He waved it off, already bored. Besides, he didn't even remember who Mary Margaret was, only knowing her by 'Nerd Girl.'

Emma and Killian passed by the quad and saw them. Jefferson put his arm around Ruby's shoulders, yanking her close to him while obnoxiously laughing at someone who tripped in front of him. Her blood started to boil and her grip on Killian's hand tightened.

"Come on, love," whispered Killian, rubbing soothing circles and leading her away, but Emma was far from done with it.

* * *

"We need to talk," Emma demanded, snatching Ruby's arm and practically dragging her up the stairs to their rooms and out of their father's earshot.

"Okay! You can stop manhandling me now," Ruby groaned, settling down on her bed.

"How many times do I need to tell you to stay away from him?"

"Not this again." Ruby rolled her eyes. "Nothing's going on."

"I saw you two in the courtyard."

"I was just talking about prom with my friends. Not even really hanging out with him."

"He's _using_ you. I can guarantee that if you let that jerk take you to—"

"I'm not going to prom with him," Ruby shouted impatiently. Emma's mouth parted in confusion while she processed the new information.

"…You're not?"

"I'm not," Ruby answered, averting her eyes when she continued as casually as she could. "I'm going with Victor."

"Victor?" Emma asked in disbelief. "As in _Victor Whale?_ "

"Yeah, he's… He's kind of like my boyfriend."

"Since when has that been a thing?"

"Since the party."

"Wow… I would never have expected that."

"Well, neither would Jefferson, so don't say anything. I don't want him going after Victor because someone took his toy away," Ruby said.

"Okay." Emma was honestly still a little shocked and still a little overprotective—now evaluating whether Victor was a new threat, but she couldn't help but feel so relieved that it wasn't Jefferson.

"What's with you and Jefferson anyway?" Ruby asked.

"What?"

"Now that you know I'm not all in love with him or anything, tell me what he did to make you so mad at him."

"He's just a pig."

"Come on. Secret for a secret," said Ruby. Emma thought about it and sighed.

"Fine," she finally said. "I'll tell you." Emma sat across from Ruby and nervously cleared her throat. "So, we were all friends—we had our little group in junior high, and when we got to high school, Graham Humbert and I sort of… dated."

"What?!" Ruby shrieked.

"For like a _month_ ," Emma said, rolling her eyes.

"So what happened?"

"Remember the night mom died? And I ran away from the hospital?"

"Yeah, you nearly gave dad and me a heart attack."

"Well, I went to Graham's house, but when I got there, Jefferson was coming down the driveway and stopped me." She shook her head, trying to shake the memory away, hating how she couldn't change her old self's naivety. "He told me Graham wasn't there and so we went to the park and I talked to him instead. We were friends after all."

Ruby furrowed her brow, still not seeing how the story would end.

"And he listened to me talk about everything. I won't lie—I cried a lot and I told him about losing mom and how it felt like we'd been losing her for months. He was just being a really good friend—"

"I don't see the problem."

"Maybe if you stop interrupting me." Ruby waved her hand and she continued. "He was being really great, but then out of nowhere, the son of a bitch tried to kiss me."

"What?!"

"Yeah, and I told him that I wasn't into him."

"Why would he do that?"

"I don't know, I think he just saw that Graham was happy and he wasn't at the time, so…"

"Jealous?"

"Maybe. So the next day, he went to Graham, told him that _I_ tried to kiss _him_ —that _I_ went to Jefferson's house instead of his when I left the hospital and that was it. Graham and I were over."

"But why?"

"He was hurt, Ruby, and I don't think he knew what to believe. Jefferson was his best friend. So, we ended it and that's when a war started between Jefferson and me."

"But you and Graham—"

"Have worked out the truth, but it's too late. We're different people now, and I'm okay with that." She stared off, seeing her memories play out. "I really needed a friend back then and everyone shunned me because they thought I tried to cheat on Graham."

"I mean, I know he was jealous and all, but still. How could Jefferson do that?" Emma sat quietly for a moment, reflecting on the story she'd promised herself she wouldn't relive anymore.

"He lost his sister a few months before and he wasn't okay. I think it just drove him crazy."

"Did she die?" Ruby frowned. "He never mentioned a sister."

"I wouldn't expect him to. His dad and Grace's mother split, so she took off with her. His dad was always an asshole. He didn't even care about his daughter. Not when he had a son. Worst part was that no matter how much Jefferson asked, his dad wouldn't tell him where they went. It was really sad actually," Emma empathized despite her and Jefferson's track record. "But it doesn't erase the fact that he's an ass." Sympathy gone.

"I'm sorry," Ruby said. "For Jefferson and Graham and everything."

"It's not your fault."

"I mean I'm sorry for the way I act sometimes."

" _Sometimes?"_ Emma snorted.

"Yes. Because sometimes you deserve it," she smiled.

"So I guess this means we're friends now?" Emma mumbled, trying to suppress the sound of hope in her voice.

"I suppose," Ruby smirked. "Truce?"

"Truce. So… Victor, huh?"

"Yes, Victor," she giggled back.

Emma sighed and said, "I wanted to torture you for a little while longer, but I guess I'll let you know now; you should start planning your costume. You're going to get to go to prom after all." Ruby squealed, jumping up and down.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She screamed in Emma's ear, hugging her so tight she couldn't breathe.

"Okay!" Emma choked out. "You can stop now!" Ruby let her go. "What're you going to be? I know you've been thinking about it already."

"I thought it'd be obvious."

"Oh?"

"Well, the costume matches my hair."

"A lobster?" Ruby threw a pillow at her. Emma just laughed then left the room leaving Ruby to think over everything she'd been told, and she decided that some things were meant to be kept secret. Now she understood those secret sister pacts they always made in movies. She would cherish this truth she'd been trusted with and picked up the phone to talk to Victor about prom instead.

* * *

" _I'm dedicating my poem to you," Killian teased the next day._

" _Oh god. Don't you dare."_

" _Oh, I do."_

" _I swear, if you volunteer to read it, I'll never forgive you," Emma mumbled._

" _Why? I happen to be very romantic when I try, as you know—"_

"Seriously, guys?" Ruby spoke into the phone and rolled her eyes. "You guys saw each other like fifteen minutes ago. Other people need to use the phone."

" _I'm out of minutes on my cell," Emma whined._

"Fine," she sighed. "You've got thirty minutes." She hung up the phone and could hear Emma laughing all the way from her room.

* * *

"If you two are done talking, I'd like to collect your papers now," Mrs. Lucas said annoyed. Killian passed their assignment forward. She snatched it up, quickly glancing over their work.

While Emma waited for Mrs. Lucas's response, Jefferson caught Killian's eye. He was staring smugly at Killian from across the room in what looked like victory.

Killian started to watch the clock, counting the seconds until he could take Emma and lead her out of the class—away from Jefferson and away, again, from the scheme that had led them together.

* * *

"So about prom," Emma said between kisses. They were parked outside her house, Killian reluctant to let her go. "Let's just meet there." She ran her hand through his hair and smiled. "It'll be easier because that way I won't have to deal with my dad. It'll keep our costumes a mystery anyway."

"Then I'll see you there," he said, surging forward to capture her lips again. Seconds passed—or was it minutes? Time was lost with the two of them.

"I have to go," Emma said weakly, leaning back into him still as his arm tightened around her waist.

"Stay," he pouted.

"I wish." The porch light turned on which meant his car had been spotted. "Ugh," she groaned, letting her head fall into the crook of his neck. "I don't want to go," she whined, lips brushing against his neck as she spoke, sending goosebumps over his skin. They stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, listening to the sound of their breaths mingling and their hearts beating almost in sync.

"Good night, love," he said, sweetly pressing his lips to her temple before releasing her.

He watched her walk up the pathway to her house and waved back at her as she closed the door.

It was time for him to pick up the last piece of his costume and time for Emma to sew and glue the rest of her own costume together.

* * *

It was Saturday night, but it might as well have been Halloween since everyone was getting dressed and into character.

Victor was gelling his hair. David was tying the laces on his vest. Mary Margaret was slipping on her white shoes. Killian was indecisively fiddling with the stick of eyeliner in his hand—he still didn't know if he was _that_ committed to the costume. Lastly, Ruby was draping the soft cloak onto her shoulders—it was nice and the main piece of her costume, but she had a feeling she'd ditch it half way through the night once her wild side came out when everyone started really dancing.

Emma walked down to meet Ruby, sliding her chest plate on over her head as she reached the bottom.

"How… did you do that?" Ruby asked absolutely astonished.

"Foam sheets. Silver spray paint."

"You look like an armored princess."

"I'm a knight," Emma insisted.

"Do knights curl their hair and wear lip gloss now?"

"Okay, I guess you have a point."

"Yay, I win! And, as for my winnings, I want to borrow it for Halloween," Ruby said.

"Sure thing," Emma smiled.

Their father was waiting in the living room for the girls. He _had_ made the agreement that Ruby could go to anything that Emma was going to and a deal was a deal, but he'd be damned if he wasn't going to try to stop them.

"I should've guessed," he regarded Emma's costume. "I don't think they'll let you bring that in, dearie."

"It's all foam," Emma said, clipping the sword to her belt.

"And where are these poor souls?"

"Dad, calm down," Ruby said, appearing in her corseted costume. "It's only prom."

"Do you know what happens on prom night?" he asked.

"Yes! It's really not that big a deal. We'll dance and take pictures. It's not like I'm going to come back home with a baby swaddled in a table napkin," she replied.

"Oh, I think I'm going to have a heart attack."

"Look, all I'm asking is to be able to participate in what's supposed to be the pinnacle of my high school years!" Ruby begged.

"Prom? Prom night the pinnacle of… _Graduation_ should be the pinnacle of your high school years! Just you wait until these boys get—"

"Stop acting like you're going to do something." Emma rolled her eyes. "Besides, you're not even going to get the chance. We're meeting at the dance so you'll have to 'intimidate' him some other time."

"What a gentleman," he replied dryly.

"He is," Emma threw back before heading down the porch steps.

"Hey, Emma," Victor greeted walking up the pathway in a long dark lab coat and tinted glasses.

"What're you supposed to be?"

"Mad scientist." Emma muttered an indifferent _'whatever'_ and left Victor to walk up to the door. "You look amazing," he said to Ruby. "Ah, you're right. It was obvious, but I didn't see it before. Ruby—Ruby red—little red riding hood."

"Thanks. And about time, jeeze." She turned back and waved to her father. "See you later." Her father sat there confused, clearly expecting the arrogant boy he'd seen picking her up in a silver convertible all those mornings; the boy Emma had time and time again warned him about—not _this_ boy, driving a plain pick-up truck with a rust problem.

"You have until midnight, dearie. Not a minute later," he shouted after her.

* * *

Emma pulled up to the school, watching everyone—fairies with bouncing wings; princesses, skirts ranging from floor-length to pushing the dress code; mermaids with intricate headdresses; deformed monsters and killers from movies. It was a parade of masks and caked on glitter. Emma shut her car door and sheathed her sword, walking confidently toward the gym entrance.

It had been transformed into something decent; filled with stringed lights crisscrossing above their heads; lasers and a fog machine creeping over the dance floor; flower centerpieces so gorgeous they must've drained the student government's funds; a punch bowl she could see some juniors already spiking, but no band yet—and no Killian. She adjusted her chainmail skirt and kept looking around.

"You're right, lass. Never would've guessed it," he whispered in her ear, appearing beside her and moving her hair back with… a hook?

"A pirate?"

"Aye," he said and bowed.

"Captain Hook? Aren't you missing something—like a wig? The poofy hat and red coat?"

"New and improved, darling." She raised an eyebrow at him. "Have a little imagination—unless perms and waxed mustaches are your thing," he teased.

"Shut up and dance with me, pirate."

"So demanding." He tapped the hilt of her sword with his hook. "A warrior princess?" he asked. She was a vision, a contrast of golden hair against stunning silver. She shimmered and Killian admired how the lights overhead cast stars in her green eyes.

"A knight," she corrected.

"You're too gorgeous to be anything other than a princess."

"Smooth," she laughed. "You should take that thing off," she said, gesturing toward the hook.

"But it'll ruin my costume," he whined. "It's only plastic." He hooked her wrist and pulled her even closer. "See? I can dance with the hook," he smirked, his lips ghosting over hers.

"Will you two get a room," Ruby shouted over the music as she walked by them, arm in arm with Victor.

A flurry of white ran toward them, spinning all around looking for someone. Mary Margaret was magnificent in her white dress, her hair adorned with little crystals.

"Have you seen him?"

"Who?" they all asked.

"Charming," she grinned.

"You're Snow White!" Ruby yelled, proudly taking in Mary Margaret's costume and hair—she taught her well.

Mary Margaret curtseyed and saw her Prince Charming making his way through the crowd. David greeted them, but as soon as he arrived, he left, pulling his Snow White away to dance.

The DJ stopped after a couple songs as the band gathered on stage, and after a sound check, they started to play the beginning of a song Emma knew all too well. It was the band from the club, the singer a zombie cheerleader with her undead gang.

"What?! They're here!" Emma yelled excitedly over the music.

"Being dashingly handsome has its perks," Killian yelled back, twirling his armored princess and wrapping his hooked arm around her waist again.

"Oh god," she replied, her eyes still glued to the stage.

"Not quite, love," he joked. Emma lightly shoved his shoulder. "They remembered me from the concert and I asked for another favor. Turns out," he spun her again, "some of them actually went here. But yes, I do believe being undeniably striking does help."

Emma looked at the stage and saw the woman give a slight wave to her. This night was officially perfect.

After a few songs, Emma was nearly breathless, but thankfully the band had begun to quiet down to something slower.

"Thank you, Killian."

"Anytime, Emma," he replied, just as he had underneath their tree so long ago. Back when he simply just wanted her to tell him her name, and here they were now; together, guards down and radiantly happy.

He smoothed her hair out of her face, letting his fingers tangle in those curls he loved so much, and leaned in to give her the gentlest of kisses, but a hand clamped down on his shoulder and roughly tore him away from his happiness.

"What the hell, Jones?" Jefferson yelled because after twenty minutes of waiting outside Ruby's front door, Gold finally answered and sneered, _"She's not here,"_ and slammed it in his face.

Mary Margaret turned pale and ran over with David and Victor in tow. Ruby stepped in front of Emma and Killian, holding her palms up and trying to calm down Jefferson.

"Jefferson, listen to me—" But Jefferson ignored her and pushed her aside.

"I didn't pay you to take out Emma so that some loser could snake Ruby!" he fumed.

Emma's mouth fell open and her eyes grew wide. ' _He…?'_ She felt her heart beginning to thrum in her chest. All at once she became aware of the people surrounding them, drawn to the drama like moths to a flame. Killian was the first to say something.

"Emma," he said, fear taking over his features. "Listen to me, it's not what you think."

"Not what I think…? Not what I think?! What am I supposed to think?"

"It's more complicated than that," Mary Margaret interjected.

"You knew about this?" David asked, his face pained in his battle of loyalty toward his best friend and girlfriend.

"It's my fault," Ruby said, stepping forward once more.

"You knew about this?" Jefferson shouted in her face. Ruby looked down in shame, feeling a tinge of guilt—feeling a little more like the opportunistic little monster she had been. "Well, the joke's on you, you little bitch. You were only a bet anyway," he raged.

"Hey, no," Victor said, stepping between the two. "That's enough. You've crossed the line—"

Next thing Victor knew was Jefferson's fist flying toward his face. His head snapped back from the impact and he stumbled. He could already feel a bruise starting to bloom around his eye.

Ruby stepped forward, her eyes angry slits like a snake's, and hit Jefferson with everything she had.

"Shit!"

"That's for making my date bleed!" She punched again at his nose. "That's for my sister!" And finally, she gripped his shoulders and slammed her knee into his groin when he bent forward to nurse his bleeding nose. "And that's for _me,_ " she said, standing over him.

She turned to Victor, her usual smiling eyes filled with concern as she offered her hand.

"Are you okay?" Ruby asked.

"Yeah, I'm okay." Victor smiled up at her and took it.

Emma should've welled up with pride. She should've clapped and hollered along with everyone else, but instead she took off, pushing and shoving people aside. She had to get out of there, and she needed to escape.

"Emma, wait!" Killian called after her. She kept running and made it out the exit when she heard his footsteps, now even closer. "Emma, I'm sorry!"

"Again! Again with the apologies," she shouted back, spinning on her heel to face him.

"Look, as soon as I met you, things changed. I've never felt this way about anyone else—"

"How much?" she asked.

"What?"

"How much am I worth?" she hissed. "What, do you get a bonus if you sleep with me, too?"

"Listen to me," he pleaded urgently. "I don't care about that—the money, none of it. It was stupid. Please don't shut me out." Tearing off his hook and throwing it aside, he stepped forward to cup her face with both hands, making her meet his eyes. "It has nothing to do with how I feel about you."

He didn't allow her to throw anything back at him and kissed her desperately, pouring everything he could into that kiss to show her that his feelings were real; that what they shared was real. They barely pulled apart, foreheads resting against each other. She was frozen, confused, and lost.

"I only care about you," he whispered. Emma could see the love in his expression and it made her stomach clench and her eyes sting.

She looked down and closed them, forcing them shut and blocking out that love. She wanted to hit him and yet wanted him to comfort her at the same time because he was supposed to be the one person she could go to no matter what. But how could he be right now when he was the problem?

She felt alone. She had no one, not with David dealing with his own relationship. She felt like she was going to cry. She _was_ going to cry…

But not in front of him.

Emma pushed his hands from her face and slapped him, wanting to give him a taste of the anger bubbling furiously inside her, but it did nothing to stop the tears threatening to spill out, so she ran. She ran to her car, pulling out fast and almost recklessly.

"Jones," David called, taking long strides toward him. Killian felt a numbness spreading through him as he watched the yellow bug drive away; he felt just as lost as she did.

David grabbed his arm and jerked him back, his fist smashing into Killian's face.

"Bloody hell," Killian smirked darkly, smirking like _Killian Jones_ would, almost relishing the pain. "That hurt."

"How could you do that to her?!" David shouted.

"David, please," Mary Margaret pleaded.

"And you." He turned to her, the hard edges of his face instantly softening. "You knew and you didn't say anything," David said with hurt in his eyes. "Did everyone know?" Mary Margaret looked down in shame.

"Yes."

"Unbelievable," he muttered, using every ounce of control he had to leave his Snow White to see Emma.

Gold wouldn't let him in though—strict policy, no boys allowed, even if Emma was upstairs crying her eyes out.

After finally getting Gold to agree to tell Emma to call him, David took a glance up at Emma's window and frowned. His best friend was hurting and he couldn't do a thing. He felt helpless and useless, so he did the only thing he could think of.

"I know it's a long shot, but can you see if she'll see you?" he spoke into the phone.

* * *

"Emma?" Mary Margaret called softly from her doorway, steeling herself for a barrage of insults, maybe even things thrown at her, but Emma only replied with a muffled, _'You knew, too?'_

"I did," she confessed.

Emma lay on her side, facing away from the door.

"I know I'm probably one of the last people you want to see, but your friendship means so much to me. And you don't have to forgive me, you don't even have to like me, but if you want me to, I can be here for you. I can explain things."

Emma didn't have anyone. She didn't have any friends beside David and Mary Margaret. She had nobody, and strangely, though she still felt a little betrayed, all she wanted was to let this girl hold her and allow herself cry unrestrained.

God, she hated _him_ —no, she loved him. She loved him just like he loved her. She tensed every muscle in her body to keep herself from shaking as a silent cry left her lips. Mary Margaret sat down, tentatively reaching out to comfort her.

"I'm mad at you," Emma said, letting the girl move a piece of tear stained hair out of her face. "But I don't want to be alone." After a few moments of silence, she inhaled sharply and heartbreakingly. "Was it just a game?" She knew the answer, but she needed to hear it from an insider. She wanted to hear someone explain everything to her; she didn't want to be in the dark anymore.

"No. Especially not for Killian," Mary Margaret said. "You know, he—"

There was a knock on the door, Ruby peeked her head in, not crossing the threshold into Emma's room without permission. She was just as hesitant as Mary Margaret had been, then again, she was one of the original people who'd conspired against her.

"Emma?"

"Not now," Emma said sadly. Ruby had expected something harsh just as Mary Margaret did—a loud, ' _Go away!'_ or _'I hate you,_ 'but not that.

"Okay," was all she said before she backed out of the room.

Emma's breathing eventually evened out, but her eyes still felt puffy and raw. Mary Margaret walked toward the door and slipped out to talk to Ruby. After the two girls had sat in their guilt long enough, Ruby begged Mary Margaret to stay, wanting to do at least something for Emma.

She entered the room again, her Snow White dress draped over her arm—her Cinderella night now officially over—and flipped off the light switch. In the cover of darkness, Emma turned over, facing Mary Margaret's silhouette.

"You know," said Mary Margaret. "He really does care a lot about you. What you two have isn't fake."

"I know," Emma whispered, doing her best to steady her breathing again. Right when she thought she had run out of tears. "I want to stay mad, but it's not coming out anymore. My heart hurts."

"It's alright to not feel mad. Sometimes it's just there to distract us."

"Tell me about it," Emma laughed weakly, wiping her eyes and nose.

"Maybe it means that you don't want to be distracted."

"What does that mean?"

"Maybe you want to fix things—not draw it out, and that's a good sign."

"I'm good at running away though."

"But it's lonely that way."

"Yeah," Emma sighed. "To tell you the truth, I'm tired of it." She flipped onto her back and looked up at the shadows cast on her ceiling. "I don't know if I can go back to the way I used to be. I'm weak now."

"You're not weak. Besides, you don't have to do that anymore. There are a lot of people who care about you. Killian's one of them," Mary Margaret said, moving to hug the tear-stained girl.

"I slapped him."

"Eh, he had it coming way before this," she said lightly. Emma smiled and gave a weak laugh.

Mary Margaret went to Ruby's room to talk after Emma fell asleep. They gave an update to David, Ruby of course updated Victor, but Killian didn't answer—probably because he threw his phone so hard against the concrete wall of the gym that it shattered to pieces.

* * *

The following week, Emma skipped school without Gold knowing. He wouldn't have even noticed if it wasn't for a phone call from a grouchy Regina to have a meeting to discuss about Emma—Principal Mills cracking down the whip since the stadium serenade and detention escape.

"So you can see why Miss Swan missing days of school without reason—"

"Regina," Gold said, obviously bored and irritated. "Let's cut the formalities. I took the time out of my schedule to come discuss with you Emma's 'offense' only to find out it was something that could've been resolved _over the_ _phone_. She has the flu, and she'll be back at school Monday morning. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be on my way." Before she could say another word, Gold stood and shut the door behind him.

He started toward the exit when he heard an accented voice behind him.

"Excuse me," Belle called, a stack of files in her arms. "Before you leave, could you sign out of the—" Her heel caught on a loose extension cord next to her desk and she dropped the folders. Papers flew everywhere.

"Here, let me help you with that," Gold said, still in awe of her eyes, like the turquoise waters of paradise.

"Oh, no, it's really not that necessary," she said.

"I insist," he said, her smile stealing his breath away.

"Well, thank you very much," she said, giggling when they both kneeled down to pick up the same page.

"Is that an accent I detect?" he asked, trying to make conversation and hear more of her lovely voice. Half an hour later, Gold sat next to her desk, keeping her company and making her laugh as she sorted through the pile of documents.

Regina huffed, muttering a comment about their flirting and to get a room.

That night, Gold found himself smiling for what felt like the first time in years. He prayed that Emma would get into more trouble the upcoming week to warrant another visit.

Racking his brain for an excuse, he said at last, "Homework!" It was settled. That Friday, he'd pay another visit to the school to collect her assignments. He asked Ruby what time their lunch was—maybe he could somehow make a date of it with the school's enchanting secretary.

* * *

Killian kept on going to their class, but Emma never came. Mrs. Lucas hadn't even bothered to kick him out since he'd been on his best behavior. He suspected she also loved seeing him completely miserable, too.

He'd avoided everyone, even David who seemed to seek him out the most.

Ruby and Victor went on another date, returning Emma's small sad smile as they silently passed her on the porch.

Since Gold had been talking more and more to the school's secretary, eventually getting rid of the front and asking the charming brunette to a proper date, he'd been more lenient with Ruby and more compassionate toward Emma.

So compassionate that while Emma sat curled up on their white porch with a notebook, writing her English assignment, Gold came over to see how she was doing.

"How are you, dearie?"

"Alive," Emma said emotionlessly, not even a trace of malice in her voice. She continued writing another line in what looked like a poem. He sat down on the bench seat and peered over the top of her notebook.

"Is that for school?"

"Yup."

"English?"

"Uh huh."

"Poem?"

"Yeah."

"What's it called?"

"I don't have a title yet." She wasn't trying to be curt, but she was certainly focused and not making any real conversational attempts. Still, it was important that he talked to her.

"I might as well get into it," Gold sighed. He caught Emma's attention and she let her pen rest. "When your mother died, I was scared I'd lose you and your sister, too. So I kept you both as safe as I could."

"Yeah, practically putting us on house arrest is about as safe as you can get."

"I know, I know. It was a little harder to stop _you_ though," he laughed a little. Emma tried to repress her grin as all the memories of her sneaking out flooded back. She hadn't even bothered to sneak back in, fearlessly and rebelliously stomping up the stairs to announce her late return. "I'm sorry for the man I became. It took me a little while to realize how much I was smothering you two."

"Yeah, and a few dates with our school's secretary wouldn't have anything to do with it, would it?"

"She's very wise," he said thoughtfully.

"Alright, what is this all about?"

Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out an envelope and handed it to Emma. "I wanted to give you this."

Emma hesitated, staring at the white envelope curiously, but when she opened it, her hand clamped down over her mouth.

"I hope this is a happy reaction because I already sent the check," Gold said unsurely.

"I'm going to mom's school." Emma grinned. "I'm going to mom's school!" she exclaimed ecstatically.

"I hope it makes amends for the lack of parenting I've done since she passed."

"Thank you," Emma said, feeling lighter than she'd felt since prom.

"You're very welcome, Miss _Swan_."

When he left her alone, she put the letter away and stared down at the notebook in her lap. She read through it and felt a shift in her inner voice. She was sad again because out of everyone, she wanted to tell Killian the good news; to tell the boy she had bared her heart to, but he wasn't there.

She could be mad all she wanted; she could let herself be distracted from the truth, but she didn't want to. Every cell in her body missed his little touches, so sweet and affectionate.

Inspiration washed over her. She wanted him to know how much of an asshole he'd been. Tearing out the old page and crumpling it up, she began a new poem and with each time she wrote 'hate', she felt her own begin to lessen. By the time she was being called down to dinner, something had possessed her to revise the last half of it and though the old Emma Swan would've cringed at the words, the _real_ Emma didn't care because for the first time in a very long time, she'd been honest with herself. She'd been brave, truly brave. Now it was all on paper and there was nowhere she could hide from her own words.

She only hoped it would give her the courage to do what her heart wanted her to do, and that was to have Killian Jones in her life.


	11. The Way You Love Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, loves. The last chapter. It's been a fun ride.

"Dinner!" Ruby called up from the stair landing.

Emma stayed put in the old worn sticker-covered chair in her room, looking through the window above her desk at the clouds swirling around the neighborhood. She let Ruby's voice float on passed her, not letting it interrupt her moment staring at that overcast sky—drizzly, somber, colorless; much like her mood.

She chewed on the end of her pen in frustration the second time she heard Ruby yell up to her room. That was another problem—Ruby. If she was willing to forgive Killian, then she should technically be able to do the same with her sister. Difference was that she _knew_ Killian was sorry. She could see it on his face, in his eyes the night of the dance. The memory flashed suddenly before she had a chance to command her mind to stop. Clamping her eyes shut, she tried to push it out of her thoughts but failed. She could see him, standing alone in the dark empty parking lot in his pirate costume looking defeated, hopeless, and maybe even a little broken in her rear view mirror. _He_ was in the wrong though, _not_ her; though the image still hurt.

' _I hate the way you stare,'_ she scribbled down a red-inked note in the margin of her paper.

Ruby, on the other hand, looked sorrier about being caught. However, truth was that Emma understood why Ruby did what she did. It's not like either of them were in the running for sister of the year. Emma practically trapped the girl in their house for the past two years, so of course Ruby would lose it and do something so selfish. Hadn't Emma selfishly imprisoned her for fun, too?

And revenge. She still couldn't believe how fast Ruby had picked up the pieces after their mother died. So much faster than Emma could. It took her at least a year just to be able to smile again while Ruby giggled and flirted her way to the top of the social ladder within months.

Later, she was still mulling over it as she munched on yet another one of her favorite dishes. She'd noticed that they had a lot of them in the last week. Ruby's peace offering, she supposed.

"Where's our father?" Emma asked, still looking down at her plate.

"Working late," answered Ruby quickly and a little stunned to hear Emma talk at all, but Emma only continued to eat silently. Right as Ruby began to wonder whether she had imagined it all, Emma shifted to sit cross-legged in her seat. It was a sign that she wasn't as tense as she was pretending to be.

"Thanks for dinner." Ruby bit her lip trying to fight the outburst threatening to come out, but failed, as she normally did, and went right in for the question she'd been asking herself since their fallout at the dance.

"Are we going to talk about it or is this it for us?" she rushed out.

Emma stilled and dragged her gaze up to meet Ruby's. It was the first time she'd allowed them to make eye contact in a week.

"You're looking at me. That's a good sign," Ruby said.

"Yeah, well, don't count your blessings just yet."

"I'm so, so sorry, Emma. I know I messed up."

"Sorry for not caring if my heart got trampled on? Or, sorry you got _caught_ not caring if my heart got trampled on?"

"I do care!" Ruby protested. "But… Okay, at first? No. There, I said it. I didn't care if you got hurt. I just wanted what I wanted—"

"When you wanted it?" Emma interrupted. "Admitting is the first step. I'm happy for the progress you're making in becoming a decent human being."

"Fine. I deserved that one, too, but let's not act like Mother Teresa over there and forget _your_ track record also."

"Alright." Emma shrugged. "I'll give you that one. So now we're on a level playing field of being bitches. Fantastic."

"I didn't mean it that way."

"I know," she sighed. "I know what you meant." Emma set down her fork and started tapping her nails against her leg—a nervous habit pointed out by none other than Killian Jones. "And… I guess—suppose…" The words felt foreign on her tongue, but she wouldn't let them die there. She had already decided this when she made her way down to the dining room. "Look, I'm… kind of sorry, too. I know I didn't exactly give you an easy time. So, for that I am sorry—everything else, that's your bad."

"I get it. I'm spoiled, selfish, inconsiderate and working on it," she spoke matter-of-factly. "But why did you?"

"Why did I what?"

"Now that we're hashing it out, why did you do that to me? And don't say protecting me from Jefferson because you started this even before I got to high school."

"To put it plainly, I was mad at you."

"But _why_ were you mad at me? What did I do wrong?"

"I was mad," Emma said, "because when mom died, it was like you didn't even care and—" She stopped short, taking in Ruby's expression. The girl looked heartbroken; a look Emma had never seen on the heartbreaker herself.

"Of course I cared," she whispered, her voice heavy with hurt.

"Then how come it was so easy for you to just pick up the pieces and—and—smile and do the normal stuff that _I_ couldn't do anymore?!" Emma asked.

"It was better than dealing with it," she replied. "We're not all as tough as you, Emma."

"Me? Tough?" she laughed bitterly. "You're the one that just got up out of bed one morning and—"

"Pretended to have it all together? To what? Use the people who liked me and play games with my friends? Yeah, Emma. I was _really_ dealing with my issues."

After a moment passed, Emma admitted, "Guess I had some of it wrong then."

"Look, having you— _us_ —be sisters again lately has been awesome. I just hope that I didn't completely ruin it..."

Emma stared at her long and hard. Like she decided earlier, if she was going to forgive Killian, she may as well practice on another person she wasn't willing to live without in her life.

Because as much of a pain in the ass Ruby had been, and very well may continue to be, having her sister again helped fill that hole that their mother's absence had left. They were so close when they were little. Before David, this girl in front of her was her best friend; her greatest ally.

They'd both let it get all muddled up in their grief, but maybe now it was time to get back on track.

Emma finally settled on a smile and looked back up.

"Pull a stunt like this again and I'll kick your ass."

"First of all," Ruby smiled back, "I'd like to see you try. Second, a stunt like this? It wouldn't even work."

"And why is that?"

"Because there's no way I'm going to let you and Killian walk away from each other when I know you both care so much." Emma's smile immediately fell. "You should talk to him."

"I don't know if I want to talk to him," Emma mumbled the lie.

"Yes you do." Ruby stared at her, willing her sister to look up from the remnants on her plate.

"You know, after the dance? All those people…" Emma trailed off.

"I know it sounds lame coming from me, but you shouldn't care what _those_ people think of you, y'know?"

"Yeah, I know. I'll be gone soon enough and none of them will matter, right?"

"Right," Ruby affirmed brightly.

"But I still feel like an idiot," Emma whined, scrubbing her face with her hand.

"I bet you Killian feels like a bigger one. And he's asked about you like everyday."

"Really? Because he hasn't exactly been throwing pebbles at my window with flowers or serenading me," she said dryly.

Ruby cracked a smile. "Damn, girl. We don't all get to have _two_ serenades dedicated to us." Emma laughed a little and sighed. _'Why hadn't he called then?'_

"I told him to give you some space," Ruby said.

' _Oh, that's why.'_ She didn't know whether to be grateful or irritated; maybe both.

"Guess his resolve is dead because he told me to ask you to talk to him." She pulled the plain piece of paper out of her pocket. "Are notes like your guys' thing?" Ruby rolled her eyes and unfolded it. She began to read aloud, " _'10pm? Please answer.'_ I think you should do it. Just hear him out."

"I already know everything he's going to say," Emma said stubbornly.

"Is that so?"

"Yup. _'Please forgive me, Swan,'_ " she said in a British accent. " _'I'm sorry, Swan.'_ "

"' _I love you, Emma,'_ " said Ruby.

"We don't say that yet," Emma blurted out quickly, tripping over the words in her haste.

" _Yet?_ "

"You know what I mean."

"Yes, I do. More than I think _you_ know, actually," Ruby said. It was Emma's turn to roll her eyes. "Come on! I know you know it was more than some game for him. Just hear him out. He looks downright miserable without you and you're not exactly a vision of happiness either."

"It's complicated."

"No it's not. You're _letting_ it be complicated. You guys like being around each other. How is that complicated?"

"We should clear the table."

"Fine, but don't think I'm going to stop talking."

"You never do."

"I'm going to let that one slide for the sake of time. Look, it might seem easy to forget about him because you're here—hiding in the house—but you know that you're going to see him eventually and I also know that deep down, you're excited about going back tomorrow."

"Nervous," Emma confessed.

"Excited, nervous; same thing."

"Your point?"

"This is all bullshit teen drama. It's a mean plan that blew up in our faces, I know that and I'm sorry again—I'll never stop being sorry—but when it boils down to it, you're not even going to be here in a couple months. You're leaving this shitty town and all the people in it. Are you sure you can leave him behind just like that, too?" she asked. "If it's not a definite _'no,'_ then I'd say you should at least answer your phone."

"You're wrong…"

Exasperated, Ruby threw her hands in the air. "Are you kidding me?!"

"It hasn't been easy to forget about him," Emma finished.

"' _Admitting is the first step,'_ " Ruby mocked her.

* * *

At 10:00pm on the dot, Emma held her buzzing phone in her hand, and stared at the picture she'd taken of him, smiling and looking so bright and beautiful, until her phone stopped dead. Then his name and picture turned into a sad little alert—and again until it announced '2 missed calls.' And, that was the end of it.

Killian knew better than to blow up her phone. If Emma wanted to talk to him, she would have. More like she _should_ have because hours later, she was laying in bed—her poem on a goddamn infinite loop in her head and her clock now showing '4:01am.'

When she reached over to snake out her phone from under her pillow, she pressed his name without letting herself think too much of it and felt her heart race with each ring. He was probably asleep, but she knew he'd answer. He'd always answer her.

"Swan?" Killian mumbled hoarsely.

"You have two minutes," she said, devoid of all the emotion bubbling up inside her.

Still a little out of it, he blurted out, "I miss you, Emma." Sadness and regret all laced into it. Then there was silence as he tried to collect his sleepy thoughts.

"You're wasting your minute."

"It was real for me," he said, realizing exactly what he wanted to say to her. "I knew it from the moment I first saw you smile. Remember? When you backed into Jefferson's car like it was nothing?"

If only he could see her smiling again right now. She rolled onto her back to stare up at her postered ceiling.

"My minute's almost over, huh?"

Still nothing from her end.

"I… I just wanted to say earlier that... You know, I understand what I did—what I did to you—and that if you want me to stop this, I'll do that. Because you deserve better, Emma. You deserve better than someone like me, with a track record like mine… And now this?" He paused, closing his eyes, convincing himself that this was the right thing to do; no matter how much he selfishly wanted to keep her from leaving him. "I promise to keep my distance until you can get out of this bloody town and start over new. I'll even let you be in peace in Lucas's class if you wish it. I'm sure she'd rather have it that way, too."

Her smile melted into a frown. She tried to imagine herself without Killian by her side.

She didn't like it.

Emma pulled her phone away from her ear and looked at the call time: one minute and forty-six seconds.

"Swan?" Killian said, and then with a little laugh—with just a slight waver in it, one that she knew he only made when he was nervous—he continued, "If you don't say anything then I'm still going to go to class."

"Good," she said and hung up her phone, letting out a long shaky breath, trying to make out the figures in the posters in the dark, but nothing could take her mind off of it.

She had hope—and now he had it, too.

* * *

"She said she'd be back today," David said impatiently, craning his neck around the incoming cars in the lot.

"It's still early. Give her some time," Mary Margaret replied.

David and Mary Margaret had resolved their hurt a little faster than Killian and Emma because the truth that Emma had come to terms with over the last week had only taken days for David. He loved this girl by his side. She wasn't perfect. Everyone knew there's no such thing as perfection. Mary Margaret was kind, sweet, and benevolent—to a fault sometimes—but like any other human, she made mistakes; and he was willing to forgive her mistakes just as she would forgive his if the circumstances were flipped. It had hurt, but like Emma and Killian, being apart hurt far worse.

"Come on, you'll see her in class," she said and took his hand in hers, guiding him away from the busy parking lot and toward the front doors of the school, walking by Ruby and Victor—no longer afraid to be caught out in the open—and waving as they passed.

"It's nice to see them together again," Victor said.

"It'd be nice to see Emma and Killian together again, too," she responded distantly, staring out at the cars, waiting for a little yellow bug to bounce its way over the speed bumps.

"Don't worry," Victor assured her as he always did, "these things have a knack for working themselves out, you'll see."

"How can you always been so confident?" Ruby smiled, lightly pressing her lips to the corner of his mouth.

"People are simple, but mainly… Maybe I'm just more optimistic," he admitted with a smile. She was the light in his life; the girl worth tearing the world apart for. "I have you to thank for a lot of it."

Ruby gave a smile, but sighed, still feeling down. "If only I had some of it, too. Killian hasn't even been here for school this last week, with the exception of yesterday. Been blowing up my phone though like no tomorrow."

"That's not true. He just gave up on being here most of the day, but he's been going to their one class."

After that Tuesday and still no sign of Emma, Killian couldn't stomach another morning without her, another hour long lunch break without her, and another day of David—who varied between being threatening or too fond of giving pep talks. But, he still hoped to see her which is why he dragged himself to that class he loathed so much.

Thankfully, Mrs. Lucas had seemingly abandoned her vendetta against him due to his good behavior and allowed him to be there. She really was a thoughtful woman at her core, and after being around a bunch of teenagers for her entire teaching career, it was easy to put the pieces of Killian's melancholy and Emma's absence together. It was almost sad, she thought, to see the hope drain from his face every time the bell rang and still no Emma. She didn't have time for punk kids, but she did have compassion for the ones who wouldn't give up their hope—small as it may be.

* * *

Emma steeled herself as she walked up the path with her binder holding the poem; the one she'd painstakingly worked on for most of the weekend.

She prepared herself for stares and whispers and even a mean laugh here and there, but vulnerable as she felt, she didn't put on a show of forced apathy nor fierceness as she walked through the halls.

She had people that belonged in her life now and it was only a matter of time before everything would be forgiven—their apologies, friendship, and love outweighing the wrong that had been done to her.

She'd found it in her heart to forgive Mary Margaret and Ruby, after all. One more person wouldn't hurt; in fact, it'd hurt more if she kept this person blocked out forever which is why she kept her eyes peeled for a mess of dark hair or a pair of light eyes that seemed to glow even brighter when rested on her. Like she brought life to him.

Walking around the halls, the moment never came.

For half of lunch, she waited by their tree with still no sign of him, and the longer the day went without meeting Killian, the deeper her heart sank and the heavier the poem she was lugging around seemed to be.

The ending bell for her second to last class rang; it was the sound of freedom from the in-class paper she couldn't even bring herself to focus on and write. She crumpled up the blank page and threw it in the trash before exiting the door; ignoring the look from her teacher who'd noticed her doing it. He sensed something was wrong, and by his code, it wouldn't be right of him to let a student suffer, whatever it was they were going through. It didn't matter if he was a substitute, taking over for the senior class's history teacher, Robin, as he casually told the class to call him, was going to have a word with the school's principal.

The infamous Mrs. Mills.

* * *

He was late, but Emma's, _"Good,"_ didn't necessarily mean she was going to be there today, if at all. All that said was that he could go to class. She didn't want him to stop going on her account, he told himself.

Still, he had his sliver of hope, or else he wouldn't have brought _it_ with him, and _it_ was safely tucked away in the backseat of his car.

He walked on slowly even as the people ran by sighing in irritation at his sluggishness and rushing around him. Hands stuffed in his pockets, eyes downcast, he walked by the window overlooking the school grounds. He could see everything—the stadium at the bottom of the hill; their overgrown tree, looking a little bare now from the time that had passed; and—

' _Her car!'_

It was a yellow VW that stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the muted colors of the compact cars around it. He started to walk a little faster, turning his pace into a light jog, then a full on sprint across school. Her first day back and he was going to miss it because he couldn't get there before the damned bell rang. Not a chance.

* * *

"Miss Swan," Mrs. Lucas greeted, "Good to see you're alive. Even if you're behind a whole week."

"It's only poetry," Emma muttered under her breath, shuffling through her papers to hand in her missing assignments. Apparently not quietly enough because Mrs. Lucas's eyes turned unforgivably cold. Louder, Emma began, "I have all my things; the work I've missed. Yeah, it's all there."

She took her seat with everyone else, and when the bell rang, she glanced over her shoulder. Killian wasn't there.

Turning back, disappointment on her face, she'd barely processed Mrs. Lucas's words.

"Swan," the old woman said with an annoyed tone. "Earth to Swan."

"Hm?"

"You're up."

"What?"

"Your poem. You're up first."

"What—I—No, it's not—"

"What's the matter, Emma? _'It's only poetry,'_ " the woman smirked. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, her eardrums hummed with the sound of her fast-beating heart, and her hands began to shake.

It wasn't meant to be read out loud. It was an impulsive bright idea that would get her credit once she turned it in. She didn't expect everyone to have to share their own.

' _Thanks a lot, Ruby,'_ she cursed her sister for leaving that detail out when bringing her assignments home.

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as she walked to the front of the class. Gripping her poem like a lifeline, she cleared her throat and tried to swallow back her panic—no luck. Her voice shook as she read the title to the class.

"It's called 'Things I Hate About You.'"

"Oh lord, here we go," Mrs. Lucas mumbled, rolling her eyes as she walked to the back of the class.

"I h—" she started, but stopped when a panting Killian came into the classroom.

"I'm sorry, there was—"

"Nevermind, Jones. Get in here and sit down. Miss Swan is about to bless us with her poem," the woman said with heavy sarcasm.

"Um…" Emma smoothed out the paper on the podium and held onto the sides in case her knees decided to give out. _'You can do this, Em. Just read it. Ignore how he's boring a hole into your head. Just focus on the words—_

'I hate your stupid accent

And the way you cut your hair.'

Oh god, she was doing it.

'I hate your constant talking,

I hate the way you stare.'

And damn was he staring. She made the mistake of looking up at him and paused, stunned and almost paralyzed. He looked so sorry. He looked like he'd done the worst thing in the world, shouldering all the blame from Victor's plan and Mary Margaret's helping. The faint circles under his eyes and his disheveled hair hinted at self-torture and guilt. Seeing him like that—seeing him for the first time in so long—unleashed all the emotion she'd been holding back. And, damn it, her breath hitched which meant only one thing…

'I hate how you call me pet names.

When you smirk all the time.

I hate you so much it makes me sick,

It even makes me rhyme.'

' _Don't cry,'_ she told herself.

'I hate…'

She lost her spot on the page, the hard stares of all her classmates making her tremble. ' _Don't. Stop that. Don't…'_ She cleared her throat again, reading a little faster this time.

'I hate that you're so honest

And how you read me like a book.

I hate how you make me laugh.

And my stupid heart, you took.'

She knew the last part by heart. She'd been repeating it to herself over and over again all weekend and all of last night. Reciting the last few lines by memory—by heart _,_ she forgot all about the other people sitting in the room. It was only her and Killian.

'I hate how easy it was to forgive you'

'And the fact that you didn't call.'

'But mostly…'

Her voice was starting to pitch higher and she could feel the burning heat setting into her cheeks and the tops of her ears. She kept her eyes trained on a scuffed up tile on the floor instead of at the boy who now looked even worse than before the poem began.

'I hate the way I don't hate you.

Not even close.

Not even a little bit.

Not even at all.'

She surged forward and grabbed her bag, swinging it onto her shoulder and exiting with her chin up.

But Killian didn't chase after her; instead, he just sat there, staring at the drawings etched into his desk.

The class, normally snickering at anything and everything, sat in silence, too, because although her poem was simple, she delivered it in a way that was so sincere that even Jefferson didn't have the heart to mock it. Some decently human part of him even began to feel a little guilty for the trick that was played on her, but no one felt guiltier than Killian.

He waited there for the rest of class, everything outside his head—chairs scraping, papers shuffling, Mrs. Lucas's voice, and the sound of everyone else's poems being read aloud—all merged together into one endless stream of garbled noise. The only thing that did make its way through to him was the bell because he had to be quick about what he had planned.

* * *

She stopped staring at her reflection when girls started filing into the bathroom. She'd just publicly put all her cards out there, but she guessed that's what it felt like for Killian when he performed for her, too. In a way, they were even now, but with the hollow way she felt without him near, she didn't care about keeping score.

She walked back toward their English class and found it already empty.

"Miss Swan," Mrs. Lucas said from her desk. Emma took a step into the class, waiting for her to reprimand her for leaving. "Thank you for your poem."

Emma smiled which Mrs. Lucas caught right before the young girl turned away, then let the smallest of smiles slip onto her own lips. _'Yeesh, teenagers,'_ she thought a second later and rolled her eyes.

Without any leads to go on, Emma walked slowly down each hall, taking probably the longest route to her car ever. It covered all the bases— _their_ bases, everywhere they normally met—and even checked her locker, but it was empty. Without any other ideas, she walked toward the parking lot, waiting—praying—that he'd come find her.

She stepped toward the yellow bug, effortlessly and sadly fishing out her keys from her bag for once, but paused when she finally lifted her gaze. Her door was unlocked.

And there was a guitar sitting on her driver's seat.

 _Her_ guitar from her favorite music store.

"I may not steal cars like everyone around here thinks, but it doesn't mean I'm not _capable_."

"Where did you get this?" she asked disbelievingly. She ran her fingers delicately across the strings.

"A store I kept seeing this cute girl go into," he said behind her. She smiled to herself and placed the guitar back down before turning around and finding herself face to face with the person her heart had missed so much. "Comes with free lessons from yours truly, too."

"Really, now." It was so easy for them to fall back into their pattern, their way of being with each other. This time felt lighter though because it was as they both wanted—no games, no secrets, just a fresh start. "And just who was this girl you saw?"

"Well, it all started with this jerk who was paying me to chase after her."

"Huh." She crossed her arms. "Sounds like you're the jerk, in my opinion."

"I deserve every bit of that and more," he said. "I'm happy though... As wrong as it was, I'm happy that it happened."

He reached out and tentatively brushed her hair behind her ear. She didn't flinch away.

"Because I never would have met her if I didn't." They stared into each other's eyes for a moment; her green shining life into him, and his blue washing away every hint of loneliness away.

"Sounds like you like her a lot," she said boldly, taking a step forward and closing the gap between their bodies. Instinctively, he wrapped his arm around her waist and smiled.

"I do."

Emma's mouth parted to say something back, but he was faster.

"I love her, actually." It was the first time he'd said it—at least not in song—and it sparked a light behind her jade eyes.

"Yeah?" she asked, her face glowing with love. "I think she might, too."

They let their foreheads rest against each other and smiled, relishing the closeness; the feeling of things being right again. He leaned his head down ever so slowly, letting his lips brush against hers. It was like magnetism; like every atom in their body protested the distance, never close enough, and how right it felt to give in to it once again. But she pulled her head away and fixed him a stern look.

"This doesn't mean you're completely off the hook—" she let out quickly. He cradled her head and kissed her again, this time sloppier, but harder and passionate.

Emma smiled against his mouth and pulled away a second time, already beginning to speak another warning when he cut her off again.

Her mouth slanted against his, his tugging on her bottom lip in that way that made her weak in the knees, but soon they slowed to something sweeter and gentle, savoring the moment— _this_ moment they'd been waiting for.

"And to think," Killian said, running his thumb over the curve of her cheek, " _I'm_ supposed to be the one who talks too much."

"Seriously though, don't think that you can buy your way into my good graces every time you screw up."

"I know…" he sighed, but then that all too familiar sparkle of mischief entered his eyes. "But there's always drums, bass, and, one day, maybe even a tambourine."

"Dork," she smirked, playfully nudging at his arm, and when she looked back up, she felt like she never wanted to look away ever again. There he went—again looking so mesmerizingly beautiful. A medley of emotions filled his eyes—a part of him was scared, but the rest shined with hope. Most of all, they were absolutely _certain_.

"I love you," he said again, nervous or still breathless—she couldn't tell. "I don't think I've ever said that in my entire life," he chuckled lightly, covering the sadness of that confession. Emma raised her hand to brush his hair back and then slid it down slowly to hold his face, running her thumb over the little faint scar across his cheek—evidence of the man he called 'father.'

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." By the time he was shipped off to be with his uncle, he'd already been conditioned to never utter the three words.

"Does it feel weird now?"

"Not at all," he smiled, and it was the truth.

"Keep a secret?" she whispered.

"Of course."

"I love you, too."

They stared at each other with the sort of love that people spend entire lifetimes to find, and how lucky they were to find it so early—to have that much more time to spend with each other.

And it didn't matter if she went to a university on the moon, they'd still find a way to stay together (long distance obviously not an option, in their experience). Just like Mary Margaret and David—sitting and watching from the benches, reaching out to hold each other's hand with knowing smiles on their faces. Or even Ruby and Victor, who lay on the grass, doing nothing to shield their grins at the reunion of the two lovers before them.

Emma and Ruby had found their matches, but things wouldn't be too lonely at home either. Not with Belle and Mr. Gold together, strolling through the park; him hesitantly reaching out for her hand which she, intuitive as ever, met halfway.

Even Jefferson, consumed by his bitterness for so long, had something click in his mind—something about Emma's growth from being the girl full of hate to the girl full of love—and made him want to change things for himself. Having argued with his father for hours over a subject they hadn't discussed for three years—Grace and her mother, Jefferson opened his bedroom door to find the usually stoic man standing there with understanding eyes, so foreign and misplaced on his harsh lined features, holding a piece of paper with an address scrawled across it.

Even Principal Mills, smiling brightly as ever, celebrated her official soon-to-be published novel with a glass of wine and later a few more in Mrs. Lucas's hilariously tipsy company. That is, until the new substitute, Robin, showed up asking for a private audience to discuss his student's wellbeing. Somewhere along the way, he ended up with a glass of wine, too.

New beginnings rang through the air as Killian escorted his lady to the passenger side of his car then drove away to go practice on their guitars on the deck of his house. When his uncle arrived, his face softened instantly at the sight of the two. He paused in the doorway and watched Killian repositioning Emma's fingers, realizing sadly that somewhere along the way, he'd forgotten what it looked like to see the kid smile so happily.

But he wouldn't ever again because Emma became a part of their home and whenever Emma was around, his uncle would see that smile, growing brighter and bigger, on Killian's face every day. They adopted Emma into their makeshift family, together yelling at the TV during games and calling her up to decide between the two rentals they wanted to watch for their Friday movie night.

His uncle was completely taken by the strong big-hearted girl. Killian always chuckled to himself every time he imagined his uncle settling down and having a kid of his own—god forbid it be a girl because she'd have him wrapped around her little finger no problem.

"She's the good kind of love," his uncle said late one Saturday night to Killian and his sleeping swan. She shifted, making herself more comfortable on the couch and on her newfound favorite pillow—Killian. "Be good to her."

"Wouldn't dream of being otherwise," Killian replied, his fingers brushing back and forth over her shoulder to soothe her stirring, and the man knew his nephew wouldn't. The girl in his arms was his salvation, his savior; she brought out the best in him and Killian was determined to keep it that way for her.

Things weren't always perfect though and there were times when her father would push Emma's buttons too hard; except this time, she didn't have to hide in her room alone—she had people; whether it be her sister, David, Mary Margaret, or more often Killian, who'd sneak her into his room for the night where she'd let herself cry or whisper angrily about what had happened that day.

It was a good system of theirs and their uncle turned a blind eye to the extra toothbrush in Killian's bathroom and the ladies' shampoo in the shower until one day when he announced he was going to a friend's cabin for the weekend.

"If it's alright, could I maybe invite Emma to stay? I mean—"

"Yeah, why not? You do already," he shrugged, trying to hide his satisfaction at Killian's fallen face. Busted. The kid really thought he was slick, didn't he?

It was a happy weekend, filled with gut-busting laughter and more 'I love you's than the two could count.

A few months later, it was finally time to say goodbye to Storybrooke. Emma brought Killian—who had _barely_ gotten permission to even enter the house (though Emma pointed out the ridiculousness since they were moving in with each other)—up to her room, packing up her things and getting ready to move to their new city. They found old mementos of their high school days; including the sweet and cheeky notes he'd left her.

"Look what I found," she said in a sing-song voice.

They were the same notes that years from then, moving into their new home back in Storybrooke, Maine—in the same neighborhood as David and Mary Margaret and Victor and Ruby—that their two teenage daughters would find while unpacking.

"What are these?" asked Kat, their eldest daughter—a tall girl who'd taken after their father's height, but the rest very much all Emma.

"Huh?" Emma looked up. Setting down her box, she glanced over at the notes and smiled. "Well, would you look at these."

"Hey, Bianca!" Kat called down to her sister from the attic room.

"What?"

"Check this." She smiled at her dark-haired, blue eyed sister—just like her father in more ways than one. "Really old stuff from when mom and dad were in high school."

"It's not _that_ old," Killian grumbled playfully, making the girls laugh as he took the steps up to the room.

"Wow… Dad wrote that?" Bianca asked, looking to their mother with Killian's very own poem from all those years ago. He'd never forget the thanks he owed to Mrs. Lucas for letting him sit quietly—brooding over Emma—through the presentations; not forcing him to read out loud like everyone else had to.

"He has a prettier way with words." Emma smiled and laid the poem back down in the box reverently. She was, after all, his muse. "Here, grab this one and I'll take the heavier box," Emma said, not paying attention and running right through a tangle of cobwebs stretched across the low ceiling. "Ah!" she yelped.

"Let me take that," Killian said, laughing at the little jittery dance Emma did as she ran her fingers through her hair.

"Crap, crap, crap." She mussed up her hair even more until Killian moved a free hand to stop her squirming.

"Love, it's all just gorgeous hair, no need to be alarmed," he said, gripping the box tighter in his arms so that he could lean over and give his pouting wife a kiss.

"Yeah right. I'd like to see that grin when there's a spider making a home in your hair, tough guy."

"I love you," he smiled.

"Yeah. I'll say," Bianca snorted.

"Huh?" Kat asked.

"Dad. Totally whipped in high school."

"What did you tell her?" Killian asked Emma who just shrugged innocently.

"Nothing, nothing. We just found some old papers, that's all," she answered. He set his box down on the ground and lifted the cover to reveal his old handwriting.

"Oh no," he laughed. "Not this old thing."

"Old assignment?" asked Kat.

"Whipped, for real," Bianca repeated.

"Me?! You should see your mother's."

"Ooh, find it! Find it, Kat!"

"On it," she squealed excitedly, nearly pushing her parents away so that she could go through the box. Underneath a bunch of old tax forms was her mother's handwriting. "Yes!" She yanked it out and ducked away from her mother's grabby hands. Kat stilled as she read the poem and finished with a long, drawn out, "Awwwww."

"Wow, the both of you—totally whipped in high school," Bianca said, reading it next.

"Okay, alright. We get it, darling." Killian rolled his eyes. "We were 'whipped.'"

"Still are," Kat said as she shuffled through the rest of the box's contents when she began to laugh.

"What's so funny over there?" Emma asked with a raised brow.

"Who—Who's 'Worthless Asshole?'" Kat could barely force out through her giggling.

"Wait, who?" Bianca ran over then looked her parents dead in the eye. "You guys were so cheesy."

"So, you never told us… How _did_ you guys meet?" asked Kat.

"Ah, yes," Killian smirked, propping his head on his wife's shoulder and pulling her into him. "The timeless love story of _'Beautiful'_ and _'Worthless Asshole'_?"

"Explain," both girls demanded, but Emma and Killian were lost in their own memories.

"You're not worthless, nor an asshole, just fyi," she teased, turning back her head to nudge his cheek with her nose affectionately.

"But you're still beautiful as ever," he said, giving her a gentle peck.

"Love you," she whispered.

"Love you, too, Beautiful," he said before kissing her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sad this fic has come to an end, but am relieved that I got to give Emma and Killian a full-on fairytale ending that we didn't get to see in the movie with Kat and Pat.
> 
> (Also, if you love Killian's serenade and are obsessed with the song, Lauryn Hill does a great and happy cover of 'Can't Take My Eyes Off of You')
> 
> Thanks for reading, lovelies! Have a good rest of your day <3

**Author's Note:**

> In the next chapter, yes, Killian will meet Emma and basically every chapter after will have them arguing or flirting—you know, the Captain Swan norm. Leave a comment below if you would be so kind.


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